'AS ULVIG NEARED THE TRAIN HE WAS HAILED BY THE CONDUCTOR
AND ONE OF THE PASSENGERS."
(SEE STALLED AT BEAR UN," PAGE 03C.)
AND .... O

E- 1 DR A

-e~d p~i i.1

(SE" ,I STALLED AT BEAR IUNJ PAGE 503.)

ST. NICHOLAS.

VOL. XXIII.

APRIL, 1896.

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

By TUDOR JENKS.

ALL signs seem to show that many boys and
girls now living will see flying-machines travel-
ing through the air, and some, perhaps, will
ride in them.
What remains to be done is difficult rather
than impossible. Practical and learned men
have lately said that flying will surely come
soon; and the men who make this promise are
not dreamers nor idle talkers.
Progress in arts and sciences comes, as a rule,
by steps; each thinker adds a little until the
wished-for result is reached. The art of flying
has been more or less seriously studied for sev-
eral hundred years, and we can now see what
remains to be done. The theory has been care-
fully worked out, and practice must follow.
If you doubt this, it is likely that you have
not learned what has been done. To many,
Dadalus and Icarus are still the only air navi-
gators, and they flew only in legend. Perhaps
some remember that Archytas was believed to
have made a dove of wood, propelled by heated
air; and a brass fly is also said to have made a
short flight but brief as is this list, it contains
all that the ancients have recorded of flying-
machines.
But that men have always wished to fly we
may know from their giving wings to all supe-
rior beings; angelic messengers, fairies, de-
mons, witches receive the power of flight as a
matter of course. And, wishing to fly, it was
certain that men would study the habits of
birds, and would argue as Darius Green did:

What 's the use of wings to a bumble-bee
Fur to git a livin' with, more 'n to me;-
Ain't my business
Important 's his 'n is?

Certainly it looks easy, when one sees the
"swallows skim along the smooth lake's level
brim "; and for a long, long time men thought
that if they had wings like the dove, of course
larger and stronger, they could at least make a
beginning. So many tried the experiment. It
was not hard to build a pair of wings of lea-
ther or of something or other," or even two
pairs; and many kinds were made- so many
that the most ingenious of boys with the best
sort of tool-box probably could not invent a
new variety even if he worked all summer.
Some of these early wing-makers lived in the
shadowy days of history. Bladud,a British king,
was one; but all that we learn of his flight is
that he soared above his city of Trinovante,
and then fell upon a temple, thereby ending his
wings and himself. Bladud belonged to an
unlucky family, being the father of Shakspere's
" King Lear." Simon, called the magician,"
who lived about the time of the Emperor Nero,
lost his life in the same way; another martyr
to the science was a monk called Elmer (or
Oliver) of Malmesbury, who had foretold the
invasion of William the Conqueror, and was
therefore taunted by cruel people when he did
not know beforehand that he would break his
legs on taking flight from a tall tower. This
monk is said to have flown one hundred and

Copyright, 1896, by THE CENTURY Co. All rights reserved.

No. 6.

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

twenty-five paces. People laughed at him all
the more when he said that he failed because
he did not fix a tail to his feet; but a recent
writer, Chanute, argues that the monk was very
likely right in his conclusion.
A hundred years later, and more, a Saracen
repeated the attempt, and like poor Oliver, was
killed. Then we read of a relative of the poet
Dante, who made a successful flight over a
lake, and fell in trying to repeat the feat across
a square in the city of Perugia though even
upon this second attempt he is said to have
" balanced himself a long time in the air," and
to have fallen only when his wings broke.
We do not know what wings these men had,
but from later facts it seems likely that the sto-
ries told of them are true. We know, as you
will see, that with stiff wings men can often sail
a long distance, and such flights as are reported
seem to have been made with fixed wings and
from high places.
After men became more skilled in the mak-
ing of machinery, they tried to make moving
wings; but it was found that the moving wings
would not raise men fiom the ground.
Leonardo da Vinci, being a great architect
and engineer, as well as painter and sculptor,
left note-books proving that he had studied the
flight of birds, and had planned flying-machines
to be driven by wings or by screw-propellers.
But as Leonardo was good at figures, he seems
to have abandoned his plans after finding out
how much force would be needed.
A French locksmith thought that practice
was the great thing; and, fitted with wings, he
jumped first from a chair, and afterward from
a window, and then from the roof of a small
house. In the last experiment he sailed over
a cottage roof, but soon after sold his wings to
a peddler-and probably saved his own life.
Another Frenchman, a marquis, tried to go by
the air-route across the River Seine; but he
was not drowned, since a washerwoman's boat
happened to be where he came down.
From those early days to our own, inventors
have kept on building large wings and small
wings, driven in every sort of flapping, by legs
and by arms, but it is useless to quote the long
list of failures. They proved only this, and boy-
inventors will do well to remember it: A man

is not strong enough to flap wings big enough
to hold him up; and man's muscles move too
slowly to flap wings as fast as a small bird can.
Whenever men have gone some distance through
the air, it has been by sailing, as the larger
birds often soar, upon the wind.
All well-instructed inventors of to-day be-
lieve that in order to fly with flapping wings
man must have some
other power than his
muscles. Many light
motors have been tried.
The principal ones are:
i explosive compounds,
Steam, electricity, springs,
S and rubber bands. All
/ these and others have
( / been used to make small
,- models, and all have
been reasonably success-
-- ful when the models were
S small enough.
The subject of flying-
models is interesting, but
AN EARLY MODEL. -
it will be possible here to
describe only a few that will serve to show the
different kinds.
One of the earliest was made by putting four
feathers into a cork so as to make a propeller.
Two of these propellers with feathers sloping
in opposite ways were set on a stick, one pro-
peller being fixed, the other revolving. A bow
of whalebone was attached so that its cord
could be twisted around the stick. Upon wind-
ing up the cord, and then letting go, the model
would be driven upward.
A drawing will make this clearer. The whale-
bone-bow is pierced to let a wire through, and
works easily on it. The rod is jointed at the
bow, an' the upper propeller turns from right to
left, the lower in the other direction; but the
feathers are so sloped that both sets tend to
move upward. This model is described be-
cause it is not hard to make, and will fly pretty
well. To make the upper rod movable, that
part may be a hollow stick put on a wire fixed
into the lower part.
A simpler model on'the same principle is the
one known as PFnaud's Hl6icoptere," or, in
English, screw-wing," the invention of a clever

[APRIL,

ABOUT FLYING

young Frenchman who made some of the best
models, though he worked only a short time on
the subject, and died when he was thirty.
It is the simplest form of the flying-screw,
and is moved by a twisted rubber band. It is
wound up by turning the lower wings, or pro-
peller, and when- released flies in the same way

I -

S ..

PPNAUD'S MODEL.

as the one in the picture. A common Japanese
toy sometimes found in toy-shops illustrates
this principle. It is an imitation butterfly that
will fly as high as the roof of an ordinary house.
These two forms will show how the screw-
models work. Those driven by flapping wings
may be more briefly described for they do not
fly so well and are harder to make. ,The least
complicated ones were made by Jobert and
P6naud. In Jobert's a stretched rubber-band
pulls a cord and revolves a pulley. The pul-
ley turns two little cranks that move the wings
up and down. P6naud's model works on a
similar plan. In both the wings are stiffened
by a rod along the front edge, while the rear
edges are flexible; so the wing slides forward
on the air as it descends.
A third sort of model shows a new method

1896.]

PAPER AEROPLANE.
Then bend it along the line AC into a flat V,
putting two pins at B, as near the head as you
conveniently can. Now stand on a chair and
drop the bird, and it will come down as if it
was a hawk after a chick. The weight of the
pins pulls it down, the wings resist by pressure
against the air, and the paper bird slides down
instead of falling direct.
If the wings were sloped a little upward at
the forward edge, and the paper-bird were
pushed forward by a propeller, it would rise on
the air. To illustrate how aeroplanes may be
caused to rise, here is a model made by the Pe-
naud already mentioned:

PENAUD'S AEROPLANE MODEL.
In this model it will be seen that the larger
wings do not move the machine; it is driven by
the propeller at the back, just as if it were a

G- MACHINES. 445

of flight, and the one that seems likeliest to
lead to success in making real flying-machines.
This new method uses flat or curved surfaces,
sliding quickly upon the air, to support the
weight. Scale a card through the air, and it
travels upon the air, holding itself up so long
as it can keep moving.
These planes, or stiff wings, are called air-
planes or aeroplanes. In order to know just
how they act, take a piece of writing-paper,
about eight inches long, and four inches wide,
and cut from it a paper bird like this:

"

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

I'vi It,%

WHAT YOU MAY SEE ON SOME FINE DAY IN THE NEXT CENTURY.

tugboat. The wings in front only support the
weight of the model during flight. They are
pushed against the air, and are held up by the
air's resistance, just as a kite is held up by
the wind. The kite, however, is held against
the moving wind, while the aeroplane is moved
against the still air.
The little wings at the rear are set at a
greater angle than the large wings; and when-
ever the front of the model begins to droop, they
resist more, and thus bring the head upward
again. They do this the more easily because
the front wings lose some power whenever they
are nearer level.
A simple diagram will show how these rud-
der-wings act.
The model is made heaviest at the head, C.
If it begins to go downward, as at 2, the rud-
der-wings at A come more directly against the

wind and pull back, raising the head; the wings
B, meanwhile, are edgewise to the air, and offer
little resistance so the model goes faster. When
the model rises, as at 3, the rudder-wings are
flat, and stop lifting, while the wings at B push
A \
Al I B 2 c

A
DIAGRAM SHOWING ACTION OF RUDDER-WINGS.
against the air, and slow down the flight until
the weighted head comes level again.
The result is that this model flies in a wavy
line, up and down, like a sparrow.
This aeroplane contained valuable hints for
future inventors; and you will see how Maxim
uses the same method to control his great fly-
ing-machine.
Many of the little models fly excellently;

446

[APRIL,

1896.] ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES. 447
but whea the machines are made big enough Hiram Maxim,- both learned men, and both
to cary men, new difficulties arise. Big ma- well informed about all that had been done be-
chhes cannot be driven by twisted rubber fore our own times with all sorts of flying de-
bands, or, if they could, the flight would be vices, to determine just what form of aeroplanes
no safer than if the machines
were fired out of cannons,
like the projectile in which
Jules Verne's heroes made their
imaginary "Trip from the -.tI _
Earth to the Moon." And
when any machine fell, it would
be smashed to smithereens-- to-
gether with its passengers. A -.
toy may -be allowed to fly
into the air, and then fall to
the ground; but a flying-ma-
chine, to be worth while, must -
not only rise, but must keep
right-side up while on its voyage,
and must then descend safely.
What goes up must come down
On your head or on the ground!

Consequently the prudent air- MAXIAM
:ship maker must in all cases provide, first,
enough power to carry his ship aloft and drive
it where he chooses, in anything short of a
hurricane; second, a method of balancing se-
curely while aloft; third, a method of coming
*down in safety.
After -trying different means of lifting and
driving the air-ships-balloons, wings, screw-
propellers, and aeroplanes-it has been decided
that the planes are the best supports, and that,

ONE OF MAXIM'S STEAM-ENGINES.
all things considered, they promise to solve the
problem earliest.
And this decision was no piece of guess-work.
Careful experiments were made, especially by
two Americans,- Professor Langley and Mr.

AEROPLANE OF 1893, AS IT WOULD APPEAR IN THE AIR.
were best worth trying. Their experiments were
made separately.
There was a number from which to choose, for
men had tried to fly with planes as with every
other apparatus. A model aeroplane was made
that flew fairly well, and the design was pat-
ented in 1842 by Henson; but he never made
a large machine. Du Temple tried a similar
plan, but all kndwn engines were too heavy for
it even though this inventor and his brother
seem to be the first who made their boiler of
light tubes, as Maxim and others have done
since. In 1875 an English enthusiast named
Moy built a large air-ship driven by screws and
held up by planes. It was run around a circu-
lar track, being fastened by a rope to a pillar,
but did not make speed enough to rise from
the ground. Lack of power, which came partly
from lack of money, kept Moy from making an
air voyage.
Only a word or two more can be spared to
these inventors, clever as many were. Each
added some useful fact to what was known be-
fore him. Thus Wenham in 1866 showed that
planes could usefully be put over one another;
Brown, in 1873, that planes at the two ends of

448

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

[APRIL,

a rod would balance well; then came Moy, al- Mr. Langley and Mr. Maxim begai as mod-
ready spoken of, and Tatin, who made a model ern men of science do-each made tria- of all
that flew in a circular track as Moy's machine sorts to find what material and what shie
would give best re-
sults; and Mr. Maxim
built and tried every
kind of motor that
A suited his purpose. He
.tried engines moved
by hot air, oil, steam,
or electricity; and at
last convinced himself
that the steam-engine
was the easiest to
manage, and gave
Nearly as much power
for its weight as any
-motor.
g . While Mr. Langley

made less outward
show than Mr. Maxim,
perhaps it will be found
S that his study and
VIEW OF THE PORT SIDE OF THE MACHINE AFTER THE ACCIDENT. (SEE PAGE 450.) writing have done as
Showing the axletree which, by bending, led to the accident much for the art.
failed to do. In 1879 Dandrieux, a French- Scientific men thought that if an engine
man, made a model much like the Japanese could be made weighing less than forty pounds
toy already spoken
of,- a paper butterfly I
driven by twisted rub-
ber. A similar model
with undulating wings
was made by Brearey,
who added an elastic
cord extending from t-. .
the under side of one
wing to that of the
other. This made
the down pressure
stronger, and gave
better flight.
These machines, and
many others, made the a "
task easier for inventors "
who came afterward, .
by showing which -
experiments promised THE STARBOARD SIDE AFTER THE ACCIDENT.
the best results; and their experiences gave for each horse-power, flying-machines could lift
Mr. Maxim courage to make his flying-machine it and themselves by its aid. Now, by using
on a large scale. light tubes to make his boiler (the same plan is

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

adopted in torpedo-boats), Maxim constructed
the t.ro lightest engines ever built. Weighing
orly 640 pounds together, they gave 360 horse-
power-much more than is thought necessary
for flying. For their weight these engines were
nearly five times as powerful as those Mr. Moy
had tried, though Moy's were considered a
marvel of lightness and power in I875. The
rapid advance in modern science is shown by
this improvement in less than twenty years.
The engine being ready, Mr. Maxim tested
different fabrics until he had found out the best

449

stretched by wires upon a framework, the larg-
est being fifty by forty feet, and capable alone
of lifting most of the weight. It was meant
also to make the machine fall slowly, for it
would act as a parachute in falling. At the
sides were smaller planes, and in front and be-
hind were planes movable up and down-rud-
ders to steer upward or downward.
The machine ran along its own railroad, a
track a third of a mile long, and could be
driven by the push of its air-screws as fast as
most locomotives.

AN IMAGINARY AIR-SHIP OF THE BALLOON TYPE.

material for making the aeroplanes his bird's-
wings. The tests were made on an ingenious
little machine that showed how much each
piece of stuff would lift, and how hard it tried
to go with the current of air blown against it.
He found that an aeroplane made of a spe-
cial kind of cloth called "balloon fabric would,
with the same weight and power, carry more
than any balloon could lift.
Then Mr. Maxim went to work on a large
air-ship to be driven by screws and supported
by planes. The body of the machine was a
platform car on wheels. The car, forty feet
long and eight feet wide, carried the two little
engines. Above were the aeroplanes of cloth,

The inventor soon found that when the car
ran at a high speed it tried to rise from the
track; so he built guard-rails above to keep his
flying-machine down. You see that Mr. Maxim
did not intend to go up until he had made sure
of keeping his balance and coming safely down.
The air-ship and its appliances were finished
in 1893, the engine being so arranged as to use
naphtha for fuel, and to condense its own steam
into water, so that it could be used over and
over.
All these matters required, time, labor, and
money,-to say nothing of the brain-work,-
and over $50,000 was spent before the air-ship
began its trips along the rails.

1896.]

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

Then the inventor began his lessons in flying,
taking careful notes of the machine's behavior
at different rates of speed. It was soon proved

boats, and the whole system of modern warbre would
be completely changed. I

Such is the present

-~ "~

OTTO LILIENTHAL ABOUT TO TAKE FLIGHT.

state of the aeroplace
flying-machine.
Meanwhile another
sort of flight has been
attempted, and to some
extent successfully, by
other inventors. This
is the soaring or sail-
ing flight. You may
see it in operation
almost anywhere if you
will keep an eye upon
the gulls, hawks, eagles,
and other soaring birds.
Yet it was long doubted
whether any bird could
sail in the air with mo-

that when three quarters of the power was used,
three of the car-wheels left the lower track, and
at full speed the whole machine ran on the up-
per track, free from the ground. It was also
found that the side-planes would keep the air-
ship from rolling over, and that the action of the
fore and aft rudders promised to be satisfactory.
When the whole machine was in the best of
order, it was run at a speed of thirty-seven miles
an hour. The planes lifted all four wheels and
the machine ran upon the upper track for some
distance. But the lifting-power was too great.
An axletree of one of the rear upper wheels was
bent--the air-ship was set free and the front
wheels broke the guard rail. Steam was shut
off and the ship dropped.
The broken rail did some damage; but the
ship has since been repaired, and Mr. Maxim
is said to be waiting until he can secure a very
large and level space in which to proceed with
his trials.
Here is Mr. Maxim's opinion upon the result:

Had it been known twenty years ago that a machine
could be made on the aeroplane system which would
really lift its own weight, its fuel, and its engineer, we
should have had plenty of flying-machines in the world
to-day. If one half the money, time, and the talent
which has been employed by the French balloon corps
in their fruitless efforts to construct a navigable balloon
should now be employed in the right direction, the whole
question of aerial navigation would soon be so perfected
that flying-machines would be as common as torpedo-

tionless wings. Nowadays the evidence that
such flight is not only possible but usual is
overwhelming.
Mr. Maxim believes that birds are aided in
this soaring by the many minor currents in the
air, of which the bird takes full advantage.
A recent writer, Chanute, in his book Pro-
gress in Flying-Machines" (from which book
I have learned much that I tell you in this ar--
ticle, and have also secured several diagrams),
shrewdly remarks that stories about men flying
successfully have come almost entirely from
the warm countries-the regions where steady
winds make soaring birds a common sight.
His book tells nearly all the experiments in
flying in which men depended on their own
strength.
Among the most striking instances of flying
are the experiments made forty years ago by a
Frenchman named Le Bris.
Le Bris once held up in the breeze a wing
he had taken from an albatross, and, he says,
"in spite of me it drew forward into the wind."
He wondered if he could make wings that
would act in the same way, and about 1855
he built a bird-like boat with outstretched wings
that could be moved slightly by rods. Then
he placed the machine upon a cart, got into it,
and told the driver to drive against the wind.
When they started Le Bris kept the front edges
of the wings bent downward; but soon the

[APRIL;

450

i896.1 ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES. 451
horse began to trot, Le Bris raised the front of have repeated and varied these trials. Al-
the wings, and behold! up went the boat until though great feats have not yet been done, it
it was higher than the church steeples, and looks as if the chief trouble is lack of practice.
floating along against the wind. One of the best known and most skilful fliers is
But soon Le Bris heard energetic remarks in a German named Lilienthal, who, after years of
the air below him, and found that the driver study and trials, made in the summer of 1891
had been caught in the rope and was then dang- a pair of wings curved like a great bird's. As
ling down like the tail to a kite. So Le Bris the result of his studies and experiments, he be-
turned the wings so as to glide downward until lives curved surfaces better than flat planes -
the driver was on solid ground, and could run in which he agrees with Le Bris, Goupil, and
after the runaway horse and cart. Phillips, other students of the subject. All
Le Bris tried to return to the upper air, but these men believe that the curved shape of
failed; and he came down unhurt, having only birds' wings has much to do with their flying,
slightly injured the machine, helping them to go against the wind- a strange
The air-boat beingrepaired, Le Bris soon made effect which the French have named aspira-
another start; but this time he had Humpty tion."
Dumpty's luck and the machine was smashed Provided, then, with wings and tail, Lilien-
to bits. With a second air-ship he once went thal began to practise, at first upon a spring-
up forty feet, and he flew the same vessel loaded board, and afterward in a hilly region near Ber-
with ballast even higher. When this second lin. Even after he was able to sail as far as
air-ship was smashed Le Bris gave up, for he eighty feet, he found that it was best to arrange
was a poor man and could not afford another, the wings so that they could be easily thrown
These flights were against the wind, and off; otherwise, he coolly says, I might have
proved that surfaces curved in a certain way had a broken neck instead of sprains which
were drawn forward into the wind's eye," as always healed in a few weeks."
sailors express it. This fact was explained in In 1892 he made larger wings, and learned
a book written in 1864, and its author, D'Es- to sail further than before, rising twenty or thirty
terno, was laughed at and considered out of feet from the ground upon a favoring wind.
his head because he claimed that flight was Since then Lilienthal has attached to his wings
possible with a machine built to soar rather a powerful little engine, and he is now making
than fly--that is without power to drive it, and attempts to learn its management. Just what
with motionless rather than with flapping wings, he has done is not known yet; but he has
The same belief was urged in L'Empire de fewer accidents, and improves as time goes on.
1'Air" by Mouillard, a book on the flight of Some Americans also are at work with wings.
birds. Mouillard claim-
ed that, after a start, a
bird can rise without -'- CTIN O WND.
motion of the wings
provided the wind is 5.-
strong enough.. The ; -
author built such wings,
and tried them by leap- -"
ing at a narrow ditch. .
Up he went, and then LI -
glided one hundred and A ITE ON HARGRAVE'S PRINCIPLE.
thirty-eight feet before
he came down and broke a wing. A second A recent number of the American Engineer"
trial was successful also, except that in coming says that A. M. Herring of New York has been
down he sprained his shoulder. experimenting with wing-surfaces large enough
And since then a number of human birds" to carry his own weight for over a year" (!),

ABOUT FLYING-MACHINES.

and has succeeded in sailing three hundred feet.
The same journal publishes an account of his
experiments, and concludes there is now good
reason to believe that soaring for considerable
distances is no more difficult than riding on a
bicycle The great obstacle is the cost of
such apparatus and its great fragility." The
wings alone cost from one hundred and fifty to
one hundred and seventy-five dollars, while an
oil-motor will be perhaps six or seven hundred
dollars more; so boys whose allowances are
small will not be likely to take up the pastime
yet.
Lilienthal, indeed, says that while he is hope-
ful that men will learn to fly, the task of learn-
ing is more difficult than one might suppose;
and Mr. Herring, though he has studied the
subject seventeen years, considers himself a be-
ginner.
A Vienna manager, learning of Lilienthal's
feats, sent an acrobat to take lessons; but at
last reports the pupil was said. to be "having a
hard time of it--developing a dreadful pro-
pensity to alight on his nose."
During 1895, a lecturer at Glasgow Univer-
sity, Mr. Pilcher, has made flights with a pair
of wings not unlike Lilienthal's; but to guard
against being upset by sudden gusts of wind-
a constant danger-Mr. Pilcher has bent his
wing-tips at the ends. These experiments are
still in progress.
There are other experimenters in various
parts of the world, but none more successful.
Some are studying kites as an aid to flight.
Lawrence Hargrave of New South Wales has
made a great number of simple and successful
models-the latest being driven by compressed
air, and flying over three hundred feet. He
has lately given his attention to kites; and in
November, 1894, made one that carried him
up along a string, and brought him safely
down. He claims that this kite, which looks
like two boxes, without top or bottom, and
fastened to each other by sticks, as shown in the
diagram, will carry a man up and bring him
down safely, and thus offers an excellent chance
to try any new flying apparatus.
Boys can easily make small kites of this sort
out of pasteboard boxes and test their merit.
Lately there has been some account of a sail-

wheel flying-machine made by a Professor
Wellner; but as it is on a novel principle, which
has not yet been proved sound, I have not
given an account of it. Maxim's ship, although
it broke down, is only a new trial of a well-
known principle. Some German authorities say
that Maxim has not added to our knowledge of
how to steer air-ships. But it seems fair to wait
a while. After the air-ship really begins to fly,
there will be time enough to learn how to steer
it.
A bill was brought before the last Congress
- not passed offering $0oo,ooo to the inven-
tor who shall make a successful air-vessel before
1900. But, as a New York paper said, that
sum might be a trifle to the inventor of such a.
machine.
A Boston gentleman much interested in the
subject proposes an aeronautical camp-meeting
on Cape Cod, and has published an elaborate
programme of subjects to be there considered.
If we add that a School of Aeronautics has been
established in Paris, you will have a very com-
plete idea of where the Art of Flying is to-day.
As was said in the beginning, it is likely that
many of you boys and girls will see air-ships in
full flight.
And if we should learn to fly what then ?
Let me repeat here what the poet E. C. Sted-
man told the readers of the Century some years
ago -for only a poet can do the subject justice :

"The air will be the ocean; or, rather, let us
say, that ethereal ocean, the atmosphere, at last
having been utilized and made available for the
commerce, the travel, the swift running to and
fro of men, every spot of this globe will be a
building-site, every acre a harbor, every open
space, plain, hummock, the highest range, the
humblest valley, an aerial port.

"The change will be gradual. The art of
aerial navigation will be slow of perfection.
Our primitive. vessels and motors will be rude
and defective, as Stevenson's locomotive now
would seem to us. Heavy freights must long
continue to move by water and rail. Acrobats
at first will be used for the transmission of the
mails and light express packages, and especially
for their swift conveyance over sea. Soon the

inland companies will have each its own aerial
express.' By and by acrobats displaying the in-
signia and pennons of the great newspapers will
leave town at 3 A. M., and whir over the country
'as the crow flies,' and at their utmost speed,
dropping their packages in the towns and vil-
lages along the routes in every direction of the
compass. Soon the more adventurous and res-
olute, and finally all classes of travelers, will
avail themselves of the great passenger acrobats
and enjoy the unsurpassable luxury of flight,
experiencing thrills of wonder and ecstasy, and
a sense of power, freedom, and safety to which
all former delights of travel may well seem
tame by comparison.
*
"In every way the resources of social life will
be so enlarged that at last it truly may be said,
' Existence is itself a joy.' Sports and recrea-
tions will be strangely multiplied. Rich and
poor alike will make of travel an every-day de-
light, the former in their private a&ronons, the

latter in large and multiform structures, corre-
sponding in use to the excursion-boats of our
rivers and harbors, the 'floating palaces' of
the people, and far more numerous and splen-
did. The ends of the earth, its rarest places,
will be visited by all. The sportsman can
change at pleasure from the woods and waters
of the North, the run-ways of the deer, the
haunts of the salmon, to the pursuit of the tiger
in the jungle or the emu in the Australian bush.
An entirely new profession-that of airman-
ship- will be thoroughly organized, employ-
ing a countless army of trained officers and
'airmen.' The adventurous and well-to-do
will have their pleasure yachts of the air, and
take hazardous and delightful cruises. Their
vessels will differ from the cumbrous acrobats
intended for freight and emigrant business, will
be christened with beautiful and suggestive
names,- Iris, Aurora, Hebe, Ganymede, Her-
mes, Ariel, and the like,- and will vie with one
another in grace, readiness, and speed."

-.. ;.: r-
.: .^ -.

TWO MAIDENS.

By GERTRUDE MORTON CANNON.

I KNOW a winsome little maid,
So fair to see-
Her face is like a dainty flower.
So lovingly
She looks upon this world of ours,
And all who pass,
That sweet content makes beautiful
My little lass.

I know another maiden well,
She might be fair-
Her cheek is like a rose-leaf soft,
Like gold her hair.

But ah! her face is marred by frowns,
Her eyes by tears,
For none can please. I dread to think
Of coming years.

Would you, dear, grow to beauty rare
In thought and deed?
Then learn the lesson these two teach
To those who heed,
And in your heart, as life begins,
Give this truth place:
'T is only lovely thoughts can make
A lovely face.

LITTLE BOB KIMBALL.

By AGNES LEE.

NIMBLEDY-NIMBLE,
Little Bob Kimball--
Bobby the lively and Bobby the quick!-
Had a great fancy for serving a trick.
Bothersome pranks by the dozen he 'd play.
Mother was calling the whole livelong day:

" Where is my thimble ?-
O Bobby Kimball!
Where are my rings gone? Oh, where is
my spool?
Bob! leave your hiding, and run off to
school.
Who left the cellar door open for tramps ?
Who washed the mucilage off of my stamps? "

Once he went maying.
While he was straying
He saw a brown bird sitting under a tree.
He 'd no wish to harm it-just thought
he would see
How near his stone came to a hit--that
was all.

But off flew the bird, and
a wall:

sang down from

" Nimbledy-nimble,
Little Bob Kimball!
Your way of nimble is not the best way.
Little Bob Kimball, oh, try for a day
NIMBLE FOR GOOD, and not NIMBLE FOR
ILL."
Said Bob, "Little bird, I don't know but I
will! "

Bobby he tried it.
As he applied it,
More sweet and more kindly his little heart
grew,
Till he was a comfort to all whom he
knew.
And now he is welcome wherever he goes;
A fine, merry fellow, as everyone knows.
Nimbledy-nimble,
Little Bob Kimball.

TWO MAIDENS.

By GERTRUDE MORTON CANNON.

I KNOW a winsome little maid,
So fair to see-
Her face is like a dainty flower.
So lovingly
She looks upon this world of ours,
And all who pass,
That sweet content makes beautiful
My little lass.

I know another maiden well,
She might be fair-
Her cheek is like a rose-leaf soft,
Like gold her hair.

But ah! her face is marred by frowns,
Her eyes by tears,
For none can please. I dread to think
Of coming years.

Would you, dear, grow to beauty rare
In thought and deed?
Then learn the lesson these two teach
To those who heed,
And in your heart, as life begins,
Give this truth place:
'T is only lovely thoughts can make
A lovely face.

LITTLE BOB KIMBALL.

By AGNES LEE.

NIMBLEDY-NIMBLE,
Little Bob Kimball--
Bobby the lively and Bobby the quick!-
Had a great fancy for serving a trick.
Bothersome pranks by the dozen he 'd play.
Mother was calling the whole livelong day:

" Where is my thimble ?-
O Bobby Kimball!
Where are my rings gone? Oh, where is
my spool?
Bob! leave your hiding, and run off to
school.
Who left the cellar door open for tramps ?
Who washed the mucilage off of my stamps? "

Once he went maying.
While he was straying
He saw a brown bird sitting under a tree.
He 'd no wish to harm it-just thought
he would see
How near his stone came to a hit--that
was all.

But off flew the bird, and
a wall:

sang down from

" Nimbledy-nimble,
Little Bob Kimball!
Your way of nimble is not the best way.
Little Bob Kimball, oh, try for a day
NIMBLE FOR GOOD, and not NIMBLE FOR
ILL."
Said Bob, "Little bird, I don't know but I
will! "

Bobby he tried it.
As he applied it,
More sweet and more kindly his little heart
grew,
Till he was a comfort to all whom he
knew.
And now he is welcome wherever he goes;
A fine, merry fellow, as everyone knows.
Nimbledy-nimble,
Little Bob Kimball.

.< rtl '1 -
i I KJ'1

rIHIt .S..

S BY. LAVRA-".'RICM AR -
Jt And a 6.- -

JI We are always bright and sharp,
A However dull the weather.
S Whenever little Maidie
I" ._ Takes her work-box in her lap,
We are always up and ready
With our Snip, snip, snap !"

We cut the pretty patches
To piece the pretty quilt;
Each square the next one matches,
Their posies never wilt.
We trim the edges neatly,
With never a mishap, .
And what music sounds so sweetly .
As our Snip, snip, snap" ?

We cut the dolly's mantle; ,
We shape the dolly's dress. -'
Oh, half the clever things we do
You 'd never, never guess! '' .
For food or sleep or playtime ;
We do not care a rap, ,,
But are ready, night and daytime, -.
With our Snip, snip, snap !"

THE firemen were able to put out the fire
before it had done serious damage, save to the
packing-cases; and Teddy had hardly sent the
challenge to Skip Jellison before, one by one,
the engines were hauled away.
Reddy did not follow when they crossed to
the other side of the street. He was probably
afraid he might be charged with having taken
some part in starting the blaze, and did not
care to remain near those who had no hesita-
tion about saying what they thought.
"We might as well go back," Teddy said,
several moments after the firemen began to
disperse. "We '11 go round by Broadway for
fear some of the fellows will find out where
we 're livin' now."
Then, for the first time since receiving Teddy's
promise that Skip should be forced to return
the money he had stolen, was it possible for
Carrots to speak freely.
If you have n't got yourself in a fine mess,
then I don't know !" he exclaimed. "Jest as
likely as not this '11 break up the stand! "
Don't you worry 'bout that, Carrots. I
shall come out all right. It 's got to be fixed
right away, else there 's no known' what Skip
Jellison may do. I did n't count on beginning
so soon; but now he 's shown that he dares to
set fires, I 'd be worried for our new place, if
something was n't done."
But what do you reckon on doin' ?"
"You come with me, and you '11 hear and
see the whole thing. It 's going to spoil our
day's work; but that can't be helped, for it 's
time he was straightened out. We 'll get the
VOL. XXIII.-58. 4

papers for Ikey, an' then have a look at this
bully who 's willing to risk burning us up."
Teddy evidently had a well-defined scheme
in his mind; but he did not intend to confide
in any one until the proper moment.
By going a long way round the boys were
able to reach their new home without meeting
any acquaintances; and, once there, prepara-
tions were made for the night, Carrots mean-
while explaining to Ikey what they had seen
and heard.
"That Skip will try to break up this stand
just as soon as he knows you 've got it," the
clerk said positively.
Carrots expected Teddy would make some
reply to this remark; but the boy from Saranac
did not speak, and before long his companions
were asleep.
It was daylight next morning when Teddy
woke his partner, and, leaving their clerk still
asleep, the two hurried to the newspaper offices
for the day's supply.
Few other newsboys had begun work when
Messrs. Thurston and Williams had the stand
open, with a stock sufficient to satisfy all the
customers Ikey might have.
A breakfast was made on the remainder of
the previous night's feast, and then Teddy and
Carrots worked the hoss-cars," as the latter
expressed it, until a quarter before seven.
Come on ; it's time to go," Teddy said as
he deposited his share of the stock on the
counter. "Keep your eyes open while we 're
gone, Ikey, because it may be quite a while be-
fore we get back."
Carrots followed his partner in silence, and
the clocks were striking seven when they ar-
rived at the City Hall.
Don't go over there yet," Carrots said ner-
vously, as he pointed toward a group of boys.
57

TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW. [APRIL,

" Skip has got every fellow in town with him.
You 're certain to get the worst of it."
"He can't have too many to please me,"
Teddy replied boldly; and then, to Carrots's
surprise, he turned and walked directly toward
the enemy.
Here he comes! an' now we '11 see what a
country jay looks like when he gits ready to
leave town was Skip's greeting; and his par-
ticular cronies thought the remark so very funny
that they laughed long and loud.
I 'm not thinking about going out of the
city," Teddy said firmly; "so I 'm afraid it
won't be such an awful good show."
Then what are you coming round here for?"
Skip asked, as he advanced threateningly.
In the first place I 've come for that money
you stole from Carrots, and when that has
been given up, I '11 tell you what else I want,"
said Teddy, quietly.
"You '11 be gray-headed before you get any-
thing out of me, 'cept a whack on the head! "
"Yes, you 're said to be a great fighter, I
know," was Teddy's remark; but you 'd bet-
ter make all your fight 'round here where you
know the police will stop a row before anybody
has a chance to hurt you. It 's safer! "
"I '11 make my fight anywhere I please,"
Skip blustered.
"Then if you 've got half the pluck you
claim, show us a place where it can be done in
shape," answered Teddy sharply. "I 'm here
with nothing to do but settle matters. I 'm
going to stay in the town right along, and I
can't be bothered with you all the time. If
you get the best of me when we 're where no-
body '11 interfere with us, I'11 leave; an' if I get
the best of you, why, then I '11 get back my
dollar, an' you '11 have to behave yourself."
Boys like pluck, and even Skip's friends ap-
plauded this remark. Teddy's businesslike of-
fer pleased them wonderfully, and they had no
doubt the bully would agree at once. But, to
the surprise of all, Skip remained silent.
He don't dare do it! Teenie jeered. He's
afraid of getting' the worst of it same 's he
did that day over in Brooklyn "
"Hold your tongue! Master Jellison an-
swered, looking angrily around him. "Do you
fellows s'pose that I 'm scared of him? "

"If you ain't, why don't you do as he says ?"
asked Teenie.
"I 've got to tend to my work," Skip stam-
mered, "that's why I can't; but I '11 give him
a poundin' now, an' let that settle it."
"If you try to touch me here where we 're
sure of being arrested, I '11 have you locked up
for stealin'," Teddy said sternly. "I could do
that anyway; but I 'd rather manage my own
affairs. I don't see how you can be too busy
to leave for an hour, because you have n't done
any work since you said you 'd drive me out
of town. I '11 go wherever you say, an' the
rest of the fellows shall promise to leave us
alone till one of us says he 's had enough!"
Of course he 's goin' to tackle the country-
man!" Reddy Jackson said in reply to some of
his friends, who at this moment began -to ex-
press in an undertone their belief that Skip
was scared!"
Then Reddy took Skip aside and 'began to
talk to him very earnestly, the others, mean-
while, discussing whether the bully was afraid.
It must have been plain to Skip that if he did
not wish to be despised by all whom he had
cowed so long, it was necessary to accept Ted-
dy's challenge; for there were at least a dozen in
the throng who had some grudge against the
young tyrant, and if he showed the white
feather" so publicly, there could be no ques-
tion that the injured ones would try to re-
venge themselves, believing it could be done
safely.
"I 'm willing' to go an' thrash this fellow, of
course," Skip said suddenly, as he stepped for-
ward once more: I did count on doin' a good
day's work, 'cause I 've been takin' it easy so
long; but I reckon I can spare the little time I
need to settle him off. See here, now-I don't
want any one in the crowd to beg off for him
after I get started."
Neither do I," added Teddy, promptly.
" He says I can't stay in the town, an' I want
that settled once for all; so the rest of the crowd
are to hold back; never mind who 's havin' the
worst of the trade."
"You can count on fair play," a member of
the party said decidedly, and, as this speaker
had always been believed to be one of Skip's
warmest supporters, there seemed to be no

1896.] TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

question that Teddy would be treated well dur-
ing the coming conflict.
"Do you s'pose you can get the best of
him ? Carrots asked in an anxious whisper as,
under the guidance of one of the party, all
hands started toward a certain quiet and se-
cluded spot which had been suggested by
Sid Barker.
"Well; I '11 try mighty hard," said Teddy.
"I don't take much stock in fighting Carrots,
but this is something' that's got to be done, or
we 'd never be able to run the stand."
This remark sounded to Carrots very much
as if his partner had serious doubts regarding
the outcome of the engagement, and secretly
the junior partner began to indulge in the most
gloomy forebodings.
Teddy had very little to say; but Skip, who
walked among the leaders of the party, took
pains to boast in a very loud tone of what he
proposed to do with the greenhorn after he 'd
broken him all up."
Sid conducted the throng to an untenanted
stable in the rear of some dwellings on West
Broadway, and said, as he led them through a
convenient opening:
I reckon you might fight here a month
without anybody hearing you. Could you find
anything better 'n this ? "
Most of the boys were loud in their praises of
the spot; but it really seemed as if Skip fancied
it too retired.
He 'd rather be where the cops would
come," Carrots whispered to Teddy. "I do
believe he 's afraid already; an' I tell you,
Teddy, if you can thrash Skip well, it '11 be the
biggest kind of a thing for a lot of fellows I
know of in this town "
"I reckon I'11 be all right. Don't you even
say a word, no matter what happens; and I
think when our little scrap is finished he won't
have anything more to say about our leaving
the city."
It did not require many moments to settle
the terms of combat.
Half a dozen of the larger members of the
party arranged the details by promising to whip
any fellow who should attempt to interfere, and
then the word was given.
Teddy did not immediately put himself in an

459

attitude of defence; but, addressing the specta-
tors, said :
"I don't want any fellow to think I came
here 'cause I 'm fond of a fight. Skip Jellison
has said I 've got to leave town, and that
Carrots must, too, just because he helped me.
He tried to drive me away by stealing a dollar
of my money from Carrots, and then he set
the box-pile on fire last night to smoke us out,
or something worse. All I want of him is to
give up the cash, and agree to let us alone.
If he 's willing to do that, there 's no need of
this row; but if he don't, I shall fight him the
best I know how."
Skip's only reply was to rush forward an-
grily, and an instant later the battle was on.
It is very doubtful if even Carrots could have
told much about the struggle, so suddenly was
it begun and so soon ended.
Carrots told Ikey that same morning:
It did n't seem as if Skip had a chance to
put up his hands before he was flat on his
back; and every time he tried to stand up he
got another dose of the same medicine, till it
was over."
In less than five minutes Teddy was the con-
queror, without a scratch, and Skip, lying at
full length on the stable-floor, was howling fran-
tically for some one to hold that Saranac jay! "
He has n't thumped you half enough!"
Sid Barker said angrily to the prostrate bully.
"What are you yellin' like that for? Teddy
ain't anywhere near you! To think that we
fellows have let you pretty nigh run this town
for as much as a year, when you would n't fight
a mouse, unless you got the first clip at him "
After a time Skip was made to understand
that Teddy had no idea of administering more
punishment, and he was about to scramble to
his feet, when the boy from Saranac stopped
him by saying:
Part of what I came here for was the dol-
lar you stole, and as soon as you give that up
the row will be over; but you don't leave this
place till I get it."
"I have n't kept a cent! Reddy an' Sid
got the same as I did!" Skip cried, cringing
now as shamefully as he had ever bullied.
"All I know is that you took it, an' you 've
got to give it up," Teddy remarked decidedly.

460 TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

"I '11 let you have some to-morrow," Skip
replied with a whine.
"We 've come here to settle matters," Teddy
insisted, "an' this is the place to square up. I
can't afford to lose another morning's work on
account of you."
Skip finally found eighteen cents, and then
tried to borrow the rest from those whom he
had counted as friends; but not one of his late
admirers would have anything to do with him.
He had shown himself to be a coward as well
as a bully, and now his bitterest enemies were

"'WHAT ARE YOU YELLING' LIKE THAT FOR?'

those with whom he had seemed most popular.
Teddy soon understood that Skip had told the
truth, and that he could not regain the whole
amount stolen. So he said as he took the
eighteen cents on account:
"This will do for now; but you 've got to
come up with the balance by to-morrow night,
or there '11 be trouble. While you were talk-
ing so loud about pounding me it would have
looked as if I was scared an' did n't dare to
do anything but go to the police, if I 'd had
you arrested. But now that every fellow knows
how much your brag amounts to, I '11 have
you right into court if the money is n't paid at
the time I said. While I'm in court it would n't

be very queer if I should have something' to say
bout the fire we saw last night."
"I '11 pay back every cent just as soon as I
can get it," Skip wailed.
"You '11 have till to-morrow night," said
Teddy firmly; "but no longer. I don't think
there 's any need to tell you what '11 be done
f you try to bother Carrots or me again."
Then, although many of Skip's friends were
eager to cultivate his acquaintance, Teddy left
the barn in the same quiet way he had entered;
and Carrots followed close behind, saying, when
they were where the
words could not be
i overheard:
i lli "Well, Teddy, who
!l OU 'I,.,' 'd 'a' thought you was
such a fighter ?"
"But I 'in not!"
Teddy replied sharply.
"I don't believe in
that sort of thing; but
the way matters were
going I thought it was
S something' that had to
be done."
And you did it in
great shape!" Carrots
-- insisted. "Even if we
S- never get another cent
_-of our dollar back I '11
7. be satisfied,'cause that
S bully Skip's done for
in this town now. He
SAID SID.
can't scare any more
fellows-an' I reckon all Teenie Massey said
about that Brooklyn fight was true."
Don't let 's talk of it, Carrots. I 'm goin'
to work, an' you 'd better do the same, 'cause
we 've got a mighty big contract on our hands
now, with so much rent to pay, an' a clerk to
feed."
Carrots would have liked nothing better than
to have remained there discussing all the inci-
dents of the short battle during the next hour
or two; but Teddy put an end to the talk by
hurrying away for a stock of papers, and the
bootblack could do no less than go in search of
customers.
He had every chance to talk about Teddy's

[APRIL,

L--

1896.] TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

prowess during the remainder of that day, how-
ever.
Every boy who knew Skip had something to
say about the fallen bully; and, naturally, such
remarks were followed by praise for Teddy,
who had settled his troubles in such a business-
like fashion.
Teenie Massey was so excited because of
Skip's downfall that it was almost impossible
for him to attend to any business during the
next twenty-four hours. He told the story
over and over again to such of his friends as
were so unlucky as not to have witnessed the
great combat.
None of Carrots's friends saw Skip during
the remainder of that day; he disappeared from
view as completely as if the earth had opened
and swallowed him, and there was no sorrow
because of his absence.

CHAPTER XVII.
PROSPERITY.
IF Teddy believed that his new admirers
would allow him to go on quietly with his busi-
ness immediately after punishing Skip Jellison,
he was mistaken.
The bully had terrorized the bootblacks and
newsboys who pursued their callings in the
vicinity of the City Hall, during the previous
year, without having been called upon to defend
himself against one of his own size and strength.
As a matter of course it had been necessary
to engage in several fights for the purpose of
sustaining his reputation as a dangerous char-
acter"; but he had always been careful to at-
tack some boy smaller than himself, or, as in
the case of his first assault upon Teddy, had
contented himself with striking two or three
blows suddenly when the victim could be taken
unawares.
Until the day when Teenie Massey brought
the news from Brooklyn that Skip had been
whipped by a boy not more than half his size,
every fellow believed Master Jellison to be
bold, and skilful in the use of his fists.
Even then, most of Skip's followers fancied
Teenie had colored the story to suit his own
purposes. They were willing to give the bully
the benefit of the doubt, and consequently the

surprise of all was very great that Teddy had
vanquished him so easily.
Since Teddy's victory, however, the opinion
of every street merchant in the vicinity of Skip's
usual haunts was that he could not fight a lit-
tle bit," and no one was silent on the subject.
The newspaper business was much neglected
that morning in order that the details of the
battle might be told to those who were not
present; and more than one gentleman with
muddy boots wondered what had become of
the small army of bootblacks who.were usually
so eager for work.
Teddy's praises were warmly sung; for even
Skip's most intimate friends felt a certain sense
of relief now that his reign was over.
"That fellow has got plenty of sand!" Sid
Barker said, admiringly, after he had repeated
his story of the bully's downfall for at least the
twentieth time; "an' I think we ought to tell
him just how we look at this thing."
Do you s'pose he '11 get his money back ?"
Teenie asked, in his shrill voice.
Not a bit of it! Skip never '11 show up
'round here again; an' if he did, how '11 he
raise the cash ? "
He says you an' Reddy got a share."
"I won't say that we did n't," Sid replied,'
promptly; an' I 'm goin' to give Teddy back
my part before noon."
"So am I," Reddy added. I 've got it
now, an' am willing' to hunt him up this minute,
if you say the word."
Come on," Sid replied, as he started in the
direction of South Ferry, for it was well known
by all that Teddy was doing business in that
part of the city.
As a matter of course every fellow who heard
this offer was eager to be present when the
payment was made to Teddy, and the crowd
of newsboys who marched down Broadway was
so large as to attract considerable attention.
When the small army arrived at the head of
Cortlandt Street, Carrots met them; and, it is
needless to say, he halted in astonishment and
some alarm.
His first thought was that Skip's friends had
come together for the purpose of taking revenge
upon the boy who had chastised the bully, and
he remained motionless an instant, wondering

462 TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

whether it would not be the better part of valor
to seek safety in flight.
A hail from Sid soon dispelled his fears.
Come on, Carrots! We 're goin' down to
find your pardner, so 's to kinder square things.
You 'd better come too."
"What do you mean to do? Carrots asked,
as he joined the throng.
They 're goin' to give him back part of the
money Skip stole," Teenie squeaked; "an' then
I reckon he '11 work up 'round the City Hall."
A few moments previous to this meeting it
had seemed to Carrots as if he desired nothing
.more, because he was part-owner of a stand,
and Skip's tyrannical reign had come to an end;
but now, if such a thing could be possible, he
was even more elated than before, and all idea
of business was forgotten as he followed those
who, but a short time previous, were his enemies.
It was a regular triumphal march for the
amateur farmer, and the promises of friendship
from every side gave him much pleasure.
"I knew you fellows would like Teddy when
you got acquainted with him," he said gleefully.
It would n't have taken us long to find that
out if he 'd started in different," Reddy Jackson
replied. "Why did n't he pitch right inter Skip
the first thing? "
How could he when he got in the station-
house ? said Carrots. He would n't 'a' let
Skip get away, then, if that policeman had n't
been there."
But after he got out there was n't anything
done," Sid objected.
You could n't expect him to jump into trouble
again right away. He had to wait so 's to fix
things, an' then he came out like a little man."
That 's a fact; an' now he can go into any
part of this town that he likes."
Carrots was strongly tempted to add to the
glory of the march by telling the story of the
stand; but he remembered that as yet his word
was pledged to his partner, and remained silent.
When the party reached South Ferry, Teddy
was found hard at work; and, like Carrots, he
was at first inclined to believe the advancing
force boded evil for him. But Sid Barker said,
as he handed Teddy twenty-five cents:
"What Skip Jellison told 'bout our havin'
some of your money was straight; an' so we've

come here to give it up. Here 's all I got, an'
if I 'd know 'd what you really were, the money
would n't 'a' been kept so long as this."
"An' here 's my share," Reddy added as he
slipped another coin into Teddy's hand.
"But it was Skip who stole the money," the
boy from Saranac said with some confusion;
"an' he ought to give it back."
I reckon you won't see him very soon,"
said Reddy. "Skip has n't got the nerve to
show his face round here ag'in, for he knows
nearly every fellow has something against him.
We used the money he gave us, so it 's no
more 'n right we should give it back."
"An' you 'd better work round City Hall,"
Reddy added. You 're a dandy, an' if there 's
anything we can do to help you along, just say
the word! "
Teddy protested that business was good
enough near the ferries to warrant his remaining
where he was; but his new friends would listen
to nothing of the kind.
They insisted so strongly on Teddy's going
with them, that he was finally forced to yield,
and not until the party were marching up
Broadway did Carrots get a chance to speak
privately with his partner. Then he whispered:
"Why not tell them about the stand?
They 're all glad 'cause you thumped Skip, an'
we need n't be 'fraid any more that they '11 try
to make trouble for us."
I 'd rather have waited till we had a bigger
stock, an' you'd paid for the chair," said Teddy;
" but I s'pose the best way is to give the news
out now, 'cause they 're bound to see the place
before long. You can tell 'em."
Carrots felt very proud when he announced
the fact that he and Teddy "had gone inter
business regular "; and he concluded by inviting
every member of the party up to see the stand
that evening.
The one incident of this triumph which did
not please Teddy, was the fact that he was
forced to waste so much time, when he might
have been adding to his capital; but there did
not seem any way to prevent it, and he submit-
ted with the best grace he could.
As a matter of course, every member of the
party promised to visit the partners' establish-
ment before nightfall, and after the news had

[APRIL,

z896.] TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

been thoroughly discussed several times more,
most of the young merchants went about their
business.
Teddy never worked harder than during the
remainder of that day, and no one can blame
him for being secretly proud of the victory he
had won.
To describe the informal reception held by
Messrs. Thurston & Williams on this evening
would be too great a task.
From five o'clock in the afternoon until late
at night the stand was the center of attraction
for all Teddy's, Carrots's, or Skip's acquain-
tances; and Master Williams fairly outdid him-
self as host.
He explained what they meant to do; showed

"Well, Carrots, I reckon we 're here to stay
this time "
"Yes, sir! I reckon we are; an' now I 'm
beginning' to think it won't be such a dreadful
long while before we get a store. Say, that '11
be great, won't it? I can have my chair inside
when it storms; an' what a place we '11 rig up
to sleep in! I '11 know what a bed feels like
then, an' it won't be all ropes, same 's that one
out to the farm."
Teddy was too nearly asleep to be capable
of making any reply, and Ikey had been snor-
ing several moments. Therefore Master Wil-
liams giving up his attempt at conversation laid
his red head on his arm, and joined his com-
panions in their journey to the Land of Nod.

"CARROTS DISPLAYS THE ESTABLISHMENT OF MESSRS. THURSTON AND WILLIAMS."

the new chair which they had bought; described
how the establishment would look when the
new coat of green paint was put on, and re-
ceived more offers of assistance in this artistic
work than he could well accept.
The partners were thoroughly tired when the
last guest took his departure, and Teddy said
in a tone of satisfaction as he curled himself up
on his portion of the straw:

It seems hardly necessary to say that Skip
has not been seen since his friends forsook him
in the stable where his reign as a bully came to
an end; and even those to whom he owes
money have felt no regret because of his long
absence.
It is quite likely some of the fellows whom
he bullied would like a short interview for the
purpose of"squaring accounts"; but, since Mas-

464 TEDDY AND CARROTS: TWO MERCHANTS OF NEWSPAPER ROW.

ter Jellison is well aware of this fact, he will
probably remain in seclusion.

It is a matter of fact that every satisfactory
story ends only when the principal characters
are settled in life, rich and happy; but, unfor-
tunately, that cannot be in this case, for it is
not many months since the day on which Skip
was conquered, and in so short a time one
could hardly expect the young merchants to
have made very rapid strides toward wealth.
There is a great difference in the appearance
of the stand, however. It has had at least two
coats of the most vivid green paint Carrots
could purchase; and at one end stands the
chair all paid for with so much brass-work
about it as to render it quite dazzling on a
sunny day.
Carrots feels very positive it lays 'way over
the Italian's," and in this he is correct.
Ikey still holds his position as clerk, although

his lame leg is healed, and he can run about
the streets as nimbly as either of his employers.
Teddy and Carrots decided several weeks ago
that it would pay them to hire a clerk regularly,
since both could then go around town in search
of customers when trade was dull nearer to
the stand; and Ikey receives as wages his
board, his lodging, and fifty cents each week, a
great improvement over his former state, when
he was forced to seek such locations for busi-
ness as the other boys did not want.
Carrots still dreams of the regularr store,"
and there appears to be no reason why his
hopes may not be fulfilled.
The amount of capital is larger each day,
thanks to the partners' industry, and their stock
is increasing too; therefore they will be able
to make quite a respectable showing when they
move into more roomy quarters.
Few firms seem likely to be more prosperous
than that of TEDDY AND CARROTS."
END.

CLOUDLAND.

By JOHN VANCE CHENEY.

IN Cloudland, once, a chapel rose,
The body all of lily-blows,
And sunbeams for the steeple;
Blest folk were entering, left and right,
And everywhere went dancing light
Between the pretty people.

On they glided, two by two,
Over the dove hues and the blue,
As never folk before;
The bloom of June shall never win
The lovely tints that fluttered in:
Four cherubs closed the door.

A little turning of the eye,
And, deeper in the curving sky,
Lay moored a floating city;
The fairy roofs, the amber wall--
That earth has not those glories all,
Ah, more and more 's the pity.

Calm lay the city; farther down,
"Hard by a little lilac town,
A host engaged in battle;
Such plumes and horses had each knight!
Never before so dire a fight,
With neither shout nor rattle.

The dainty chapel swinging there,
The city floating in the air,
The knights with plumes a-flying,-
Such loveliness, it well might make
The baby angels stay awake
Till the morning stars were dying.

But now, but now, a touch of gray,
And every sunbeam slipped away,
And with them went the steeple;
The chapel sank, the city passed,
The warriors faded, and, at last,
The pretty, pretty people!

- Po/fessof"-

TOLEMEASI .
a8s/tcr o/ ,

Performance
jFrorv FPron in

A WONDERFUL TRICK. '

BY CHARLES LOVE BENJAMIN.

THE young magician bowed
To the crowd.
"Observe, my friends," said he,-
"Pray observe me, carefully.
You perceive
I have neither cuffs nor mustache to deceive."
Then after further talk,
Such as conjurers all use
When an audience they amuse,
He produced a piece of chalk -
Just a common piece of chalk ,.
Snowy white; ;
And he said: My first endeavor
Is a trick that 's really clever."
(Sly old fellow!)
"You observe this chalk is white.
Well, now, I will with it write
Any color named by you,-
Red or green or pink or blue,
VOL. XXIII.-59. 465

{*-
ff

466

A WONDERFUL TRICK.

Brown or yellow."
Here he paused; then some one said:
SI choose red! "
And some one: "Blue!"
"I will write, my friends, the two,"
Said the pres-ti-dig-i-ta-tor.
And he did! So could you.
For all you have to do
Is to write
In letters white:

LIEUTENANT HARRY.
(An Episode of the War of the Rebellion.)

By THOMAS EDWIN TURNER.

AT the close of a cold, dreary
day in the winter of 1861-
62, a boy, thirteen years
old, wearing the uniform
of a lieutenant, and riding
6 a high-mettled dapple-
/ gray pony, was making
4 his way rapidly toward
the Federal headquarters
which were then situated at Tipton, Missouri.
While the willing little steed galloped cheer-
ily onward, its rider hastily bolted large pieces
of gingerbread. The boy was followed by a
mounted orderly. On reaching his destina-
tion, Harry, for so we may call him, dis-
mounted, threw his bridle-rein to the orderly,
and rushed into the house, almost overturn-
ing a guard placed at its main door. Mak-
ing a dash at a smaller door to the right of a
spacious hall, he flung it open, and, with snap-
ping eyes, glowing cheeks, breathless from
rapid movement, and overfilled mouth, was in
the presence of the commander of the First
Division of the West. Hastily swallowing the
last bit of gingerbread, the boy exclaimed:
Let me go, father; please do! "
Let you go where ? the boy's father asked.

"I don't know where," the son answered;
"but I heard out at camp you were going to
send Major Gray and his company of cavalry
somewhere to-night, and I want to go with
them. I am not a baby. All the men in our
command say I can ride any horse, in or out
of it; and I stood the march toward Springfield
when a lot of officers and men gave out. It
was all day and all night work for sixty hours,
with hardly one hour's rest in six."
And here the lad, who had been talking very
fast, and with great earnestness, appealed to his
sire, who smilingly replied:
Soldiers should not boast, my boy. I have
concluded to send you with Major Gray to-
night. More than that, I shall place you in
command."
"Hooray for-thank you, sir! he cried;
"but where are we to go ? "
"That I will tell you in two hours, when you
report with your command for orders. Major
Gray and his company are to be here at eight
o'clock. So go back to camp, and prepare for
your journey. Use a fresh mount. You had
better ride my brown mare."
"Yes, father"; and the boy hastened away
to make preparations for the great undertaking.

[APRIL,

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

While he is so engaged, as you may be curi-
ous to know, I will tell you how this mere child
came to be in the army instead of in school
with other patriots of his own age.
After the father became colonel of his regi-
ment, his physician, who was chosen surgeon of
the same regiment, expressed the opinion that it
might benefit the poor health of the colonel's son
if the latter was permitted to accompany his
father to the South. It was decided to follow
the good doctor's advice, and the result was all
that could be desired; for Harry, now the pic-
ture of health, served as a member of staff, per-
forming the duties devolving upon a staff-officer,
although not sworn into the service, and, of
course, not receiving government pay.
At eight o'clock in the evening of this red-
letter day in the life of our hero, a company of
cavalry was drawn up in line before the head-
quarters in Tipton. Its commander, Major
Gray, was in conference with his chief, within
doors, while the young lieutenant, wrapped in
the regulation army-overcoat, and mounted on
a large brown horse of great speed, occupied
a position at the head of the line of cavalry.
The major, accompanied by General T-,
soon came from the house. Approaching the
boy, the general said:
"With Major Gray's consent, I put you in
command of this expedition. You are to go
to Versailles, reaching there as near the break
of day as possible. Post men on all roads en-
tering the town, to prevent escape of the enemy
out of it, and to warn you of his approach.
Search each house in Versailles, and bring in
any men bearing arms against us, or concealing
themselves. Whatever you do, keep near Major
Gray, and when in doubt be guided by him."
Here the speaker and the major exchanged
significant glances. Then the general turned
away, saying:
I wish you a speedy and successful journey.
Good night, sir." And answering the salute
received as he ended his instructions, he was
soon within the house again.
For some reason or other, now that the boy
was fairly in for it, his courage and confidence
began to desert him. An hour before it seemed
easy enough, a simple thing, to manceuver a
whole division. Now he did n't know what

to do with a single company. He knew he
ought to be off, but how to move that com-
pany of men floored him. Something must be
done. So he shouted in desperation: Left
wheel! By twos! Forward,'march!" uncer-
tain whether those were the proper orders to
bring about the movement he desired. Right
or wrong, the words started his little command
in the right direction, and this success set self-
confidence on its legs again.
As he was the only one of the entire party
who had ever been over the road from Tipton
to Versailles, Major Gray informed him this
was the reason for his being sent in command
of the little force that was to find it. He had
only once been in Versailles, and the journey
there was made during daylight, with a large
detachment of his father's division. And hav-
ing paid no particular attention to the route,
the truth was he knew little about it. And
now the snow began to fall quietly, steadily, as
if it meant to continue a long time, soon cov-
ering the earth with a fleecy robe that reflected
just light enough to reveal how deep the gloom
had been without it. It muffled the sound of
hoofs, leaving the night, if possible, more noise-
less than before. The very horses of the party
understood that they were going to have a bad
night of it, and, with an air of patience worthy
of imitation, relaxed their pliant ears, letting
them fall far back on their crests, thrust down
and out their muzzles, and, humping their backs,
settled down to an I'm-in-for-it gait that could
be depended on for hours.
A little after eleven o'clock, however, chan-
cing to glance far ahead, Harry saw something
that made him regret he was acting in the
capacity of leader. What his eyes fell upon
that caused this disturbance of mind were sim-
ply: Forks ahead! where the road they were
on branched off into three prongs, going in as
many different directions. What should he do ?
For, to confess the truth, he did not know
which of the three branches was the proper one
to take in order to reach Versailles. Riding
close at Major Gray's side, rising in his stirrups,
and leaning as far toward his companion as the
position permitted, the lad in a low tone said:
Major Gray, I don't know which of those
three roads we ought to take; but have mercy

467

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

"MAJOR GRAY, WITH THE BUTT OF

on me, and don't tell your lieutenants or the
men!"
You don't know the road ? the major an-
swered. Try to remember the way you went
going down here before."
"I can't; for I fail even to remember ever
seeing the forks before," said the boy.
By this time the forks were reached, and in a
moment the little band was at a standstill, and
the kind-hearted major said in a low, clear
voice that reached every ear in the troop:
We know one of these roads will take us to
Versailles, but another may be more direct, so
we will try to get information or a guide from
the cabins yonder. Wait here until Lieutenant
Thorn and I return."
Now Lieutenant Thorn," as our hero was
called, had seen no sign of any habitation, but
the major's keen eyes had caught a glimpse of
three or four rude log huts a little distance
down the road that led off to the left. Ap-
proaching one of the cabins, Major Gray, with
the butt of a navy revolver, rapped vigorously
upon its door of split logs. A voice inside the
cabin cried:

-.."^ "' i y'^' ,rts ^ *."

A NAVY REVOLVER, RAPPED VIGOROUSLY UPON THE DOOR."

"Who 's thar ? "
Officers of the army," shouted the major.
"Which side be you uns on? "
"On the outside, you blockhead!" returned
the matter-of-fact major.
"That 's enough. Ye 're Yanks," said the
first speaker. "Now what do you uns want?"
A guide to Versailles; we want one quick,
so tumble out," was the answer.
If you uns want to get to Versailles, take
that 'ere right-hand track."
No, you don't," shouted the major; you
must come with us. So stop talking, and come
out of there in short order."
And in a few moments a door in the rear was
opened, and a voice cried:
Kim on; I will go with you uns."
They came upon a boy seemingly about
sixteen years of age, who, as they reached him,
closed the door in which he had been standing
awaiting the coming of the two officers. The
latter saw at a glance that tracks had been
made through the snow from the dwelling-
house to the buildings back of it. So the ma-
jor's first words to the boy were:

468

[APRIL,

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

Who left this cabin while I was talking to
your father ? "
Nary one, stranger," was the boy's answer.
How came those tracks in the snow, then ? "
he was sternly asked.
Oh! when you uns first came up, dad was
sartin you uns was arter the stock, and he sent
me out, quietly like, to slip their halters and
let 'em tuk for the bush."
There was nothing to do but accept the ex-
planation, hoping, yet doubting, it was true.
In a short time the guide caught, saddled,
and bridled a long-haired, hungry-looking brute,
and mounting it, he followed the major and his
young companion to the spot where the com-
pany of cavalry awaited them.
The major hurriedly explained to his officers,
and turning to the guide, said: See here,
young man; I want you to take us to Versailles
by the most direct road you know. If you do
so you will be paid for your time and trouble;
but if you play us false I will have you shot.
Now, if you understand me, lead on."
The person so addressed turned his horse's

I ,-1

$4a ^

head down the road leading to the right, Major
Gray and the young lieutenant riding one on
each side of him. With the two other officers
directly behind them, closely followed by their
men, the march was resumed.
It was now midnight, and the little band
rode silently onward, scarce a word being
spoken. The young guide appeared to act in
good faith, and led the way without hesitation.
All things must end, sooner or later, even Mis-
souri roads and hours of snow and rain. As
the welcome break of storm and day came to
warm and cheer the cold and weary horsemen,
Versailles appeared in the distance. It lay at
the summit of a gentle rise of ground, the road
leading with a long and almost imperceptible
ascent to the very center of the town. As soon
as Harry saw the village, he tightened his bridle-
rein, struck his spurs into his horse, and with as
ferocious a yell as he could command, dashed
far ahead of his comrades and into the Southern
town. He dropped one of his reins, and lost his
cap, but that was picked up by one of the men
and restored. As he shot past one of its subur-

Ar -

.- r(f r

"WITH AS FEROCIOUS A VEI.L AS HE COULD COMMAND, HARRY DASHED FAR AHEAD OF HIS COMRADES.

469

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

ban dwellings, a window was thrown up with a
crash, and a man hurriedly thrust out a rifle,
and discharged it. The boy heard something
flying behind and beyond him, singing zip!
and at the same moment Major Gray roared
"Don't shoot! It is only a boy!" And then
turning short around a corner, our young lieu-
tenant was soon in the public square of Ver-
sailles, surrounded by his companions.
In the center of this area was, of course, the
court-house, the pride of law-abiding citizens.
This building was surrounded by a low railing
that bore the initials of many a whittler. To
this railing three horses were hitched, saddled
and bridled. Standing in front of a store were
a dozen men and boys.
At Major Gray's suggestion, the young lieu-
tenant ordered the men to form a line facing their
captors, and surrender their arms to him. The
first command being speedily obeyed, our hero
rode up to each prisoner and obtained his
weapons, and a strange collection was made.
Among the captives were three who were
evidently soldiers of the Southern army. On
being questioned, these men admitted that
they belonged to General Price's army, but
would divulge neither their rank nor names.
One of them appeared to be an educated man
and a gentleman. His demeanor was cool,
haughty, and fearless. He seemed ashamed of
the cringing, frightened condition of most of
his companions.
Major Gray then detailed parties of three to
search for men and arms in the houses of the
town. Harry claimed, and his claim was granted,
the right to lead one of these parties.
As he was setting out to perform his self-im-
posed duty, Major Gray said to him:
During your absence I shall be at the hotel,
where I intend to have our party take break-
fast. I shall ask the three Southern soldiers to
be our guests, as I am confident one of them at
least is an officer of no mean grade. So join
me there when you have made your search."
Feeling that already he had displayed gen-
eralship to be favorably compared with Napo-
leon's crossing the Alps, the young lieutenant,
with his two men, a sergeant and a corporal,
prepared to carry by storm or strategy the only
castle known in America-the dwelling-house

of one of her citizens. He mounted the steps
of the most pretentious house in his district, and
boldly pulled the door-bell. After repeating
this operation two or three times, applying in-
creased strength to each repetition, finally the
door was flung wide open, and there stood
a lady clad in black. Her hair was black,
her eyes were blacker, and the expression of
her face was blackest. This somber female
looked at the boy a moment, and then asked:
Do you want a bell ? "
No, ma'am. Why ?" said he.
Oh, when you first rang I thought some one
needed a door-bell, and had concluded to take
mine; but, before reaching here, I decided it
was not a bell, but the whole house, you were
going to take. Now, what do you want ? "
It must be confessed that this reception was
not what the young lieutenant expected, and for
a moment it staggered him. But he drew
himself up to his full height of four feet eleven
inches, allowed the left hand to rest gracefully
on his knightly sword-hilt, and, his face beam-
ing with a conciliating smile as he assumed the
air of a humble and unwilling instrument in
the hands of Uncle Sam, he proceeded to an-
swer the lady's last question thus:
Madam, these are war times. It pains me
to inform you that my duty compels us to
search your house from top to bottom. I would
spare so fair a lady, if it were in my power; but
my orders from our commanding officer cannot
be disobeyed. So please lead the way, and
we will annoy you as little as possible."
Here the lady to whom this grandiloquent
address had been directed, struck dumb with
amazement at the boy's words and air of con-
descension, recovered her speech. Her face was
flushed and her black eyes flashed dangerously
as she screamed:
Hold your tongue, you impudent little pea-
cock, or I '11 box your ears Why does a baby
like you wear uniform ? Have n't the Yankees
men enough? If your commanding officer
wants anything of me, let him send a man, not
a stuck-up doll like you. Run home, now, as
fast as your little legs will carry you, and tell
mama to trounce you soundly for impertinence
to a lady old enough to be your grandmother! "
Never was humiliation so withering, so blight-

[APRIL,

470

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

ing, so complete. The boy would have given
worlds to have exchanged his uniform for his
roundabout and breeches and the slouch hat
in his room at his far-away Northern home.
In a somewhat tremulous voice, it must be con-
fessed, the young lieutenant thus answered his
derider:
"Madam, I may be a peacock and a doll.
It is easy to mistake one's self. I imagined
you were the lady you claimed to be; but, so
long as even your dress is like that of my mo-
ther and sisters, we will not be rude, unless you
compel it. My little legs' are going over this
house from cellar to garret, and if you won't
show us the way, I will send you to the hotel
with Corporal Sands, where we have some
other prisoners. I am big enough to tell you
this, and to do it."
Scowling darkly, the woman replied:
Come on, you little brute! Oh, how I
wish I had you alone ten minutes!"
Truth to tell, "the little brute" was very
glad to escape a private interview with the irate
woman.
I have not time to tell you of the exploration
the lieutenant and his men made in that house.
It is a story by itself. But explore it they did,
most thoroughly.
Soon after the little search-party left the
house and went back to the hotel, where the
leader asked Major Gray to appoint another
to fill his place, saying: I guess I can serve
my country better here, Major, than poking over
other people's houses."
The major laughingly agreed with this sage
decision, and at the same time complied with
the boy's request.
When the three parties had finished their
duties and returned to the hotel, reporting that
no concealed men or arms had been found, pre-
parations for the return to Tipton were made.
It was decided to retain as prisoners only the
three men known to be Confederate soldiers.
The prisoners occupied a position in the
center of the company. There was something
about the most distinguished-looking of the
three that greatly attracted our hero, and from
time to time he would ride for a moment or two
at the former's side. The boy, too, seemed to
interest and amuse the captive, who at length,

calling to Major Gray, asked if there was any
objection to the boy's remaining at his side dur-
ing the journey. Being answered in the nega-
tive, the two became traveling companions.
It did not take long for the Southerner to
draw from our hero his whole story. But while
seemingly doing his share of the talking, he
gave his young companion very little informa-
tion about himself.
As the afternoon wore away, and the sha-
dows grew longer and longer, the cold began
to make itself felt. The young lieutenant's
new friend drew about him a short gray cloak
that at the time of his capture in the morning
was hanging on the pommel of his saddle,
where he had thrown it while he left his horse
fastened to the railing in front of the court-
house. Something heavy in this cloak, as he
threw it about him, struck his horse's shoulder
with a dull sound. The boy quickly looked up
into his companion's face. For a moment the un-
known prisoner seemed buried in deep thought.
Then, turning to the lad, he said:
Lieutenant, did you secure all of our wea-
pons this morning ? "
"All you had about you thenl" was the an-
swer.
The prisoner smiled, and continued: I want
to give you something to keep for me until the
fortunes of war bring it back to my hand. You
must not lose it, must not give it away, and you
must keep it about your own person while in
the army. Will you do this? "
The boy promised.
Whereupon the prisoner drew from a deep
pocket in the lining of his gray cloak the most
beautifully chased silver-mounted revolver one
can imagine. Handing it to the young lieuten-
ant, its owner said:
Be sure I shall some day take it back again."
The boy, delighted beyond expression at his
gift, made no reply beyond a simple "Thank
you"; but added mentally, No, you won't
take it back. I 'l1 keep it to show the boys at
home-the beauty!"
The tired little force was now approaching
Tipton. As the young lieutenant's friend saw
houses in the distance, he said:
"You will soon be with your father again,
and I for one am glad of it. Some one did

LIEUTENANT HARRY.

leave the cabin you stopped at last night. It
was the elder brother of your guide. He went
straight to Versailles after escaping from the
house, reaching there an hour before you did.
He warned those to fly whose capture by you
and your men would have hurt our army more
than I dare tell you. While you were search-
ing houses, I sent the guide that brought you
to Versailles to hurry up certain men of ours,
not far off, to our rescue. I am glad you did
not change your road or stop at the house of
any of our friends for refreshment; for if that
had been done you would be the prisoner now.
My boy, I am glad, for your sake only, that we
have reached Tipton without bloodshed. Re-
member, I shall recover my revolver from you.
Enjoy it while you can. Good-by, good-by."
And shaking the lad's hand warmly, with a
kind, sad smile softening the hard lines in his
face, he turned away. Harry never spoke to
him again. Resuming his position at Major
Gray's side, the company, with jingling sabers
and clinking curb-chains,- trotted up to the
headquarters.
In a moment our hero, with his arms full of
trophies, was in his father's room.
See, see," the boy cried, what I have cap-
tured, and a lot more outside! There are three
prisoners and three horses. One of the men is
a general, I am sure. He gave me a revolver
for myself. And I say, father, can I keep it ? "
But by this time Major Gray came to his
relief, and gave a hurried report of their journey.
The general directed that the prisoners be taken
to camp and placed under guard, promising to
talk with his son's friend in the morning. He
intimated that the three men would be at once
sent to St. Louis for safe keeping. Harry was
invited to spend the night in his father's quar-
ters, but declined, preferring to go to camp along
with his company. So after obtaining permis-
sion to keep the silver-mounted revolver, the
young lieutenant, bidding the officers good
night, joined the company on their way to
camp. His friend did not even look toward

him during the ride, but was busily engaged
in conversation with Major Gray. The latter
informed him, as our hero overheard, that his
final destination would probably be St. Louis.
Ere long the camp was reached, and our young
lieutenant sought his tent, where a supper of
hot coffee, with bacon, beans, and hardtack,
was soon placed before him by his old friend
and orderly, George. Harry related to the sol-
dier his wonderful adventures, and, I can prom-
ise you, they lost nothing in the telling. He
displayed with pride the handsome revolver,
and intimated that his friend the donor would
be very wide awake if he ever got it back
again.
Shortly after supper the young officer con-
cluded to turn in, and made his way to the cot
in a corer of his tent, glad to lay his tired
body between the warm blue blankets. Partly
as a precaution, but mainly that he might see
it first thing in the morning, he placed the un-
known's gift beneath his pillow, and quickly
glided into dreamland. Having reached that
mysterious world, it was not surprising that he
should dream. Dream he did, and most fan-
tastically.
The sun was shining brightly when the boy
awoke. He put his hand under his pillow to
draw forth his revolver, that he might feast his
eyes upon it. It was not there! Springing
from his bed, he hurriedly dressed, and ran to
the guards charged with the security of the
three prisoners. Asking the sentinel on duty
for his new-found friend, he was reassured by a
nod of the soldier's head toward the prisoners'
tent, a few feet distant. Approaching it, our
hero thrust head and shoulders through one
of the apertures between the loops holding
its flaps closely together, and saw two prisoners
calmly sleeping. The rider of the sorrel horse,
the owner of the fine revolver, the friend of yes-
terday, was not there!
The young lieutenant never saw again the
unknown prisoner, never saw again the silver-
mounted revolver.

MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE.

By KATE DICKINSON SWEETSER.

COME on, sis; we 're waiting for you "
"Well, you can wait, then! "
"Say, are n't you going, honest Injun ? "
I 've said I was n't, once."
Why not? "
"Because I don't choose to; that's why."
"Are you sick? "
No."
Mad ?"
No."
"Well, what ails you, then? It '11 be the
jolliest affair of the season. We won't have
another such crust this winter. Come along! "
Stop bothering me! When I say I 'm not
going, I mean it. I hate sleighing. It 's just
getting frozen and playing you like it. I 've
said I would n't go, and I won't -so there!"
Teddy was on one side of the keyhole of
Mardie's door, and she was on the other; and
while they carried on this pleasant little con-
versation the big four-horse sleigh drew up in
front of the house, and the twenty young peo-
ple who were going off in it were waiting im-
patiently below, all bundled up like polar-bears.
"Is she going?" they asked eagerly as
Teddy came slowly down the stairs; but he
shook his head.
Does n't want to. Come on, let 's be off,"
adding in a lower tone to his brother Harry,
as they filed out to the sleigh, My, but she 's
cross! Crosser than two sticks. I wonder why
she acts so, anyway. She spoils all our fun."
Ted's words were only too true. Mardie
was inexcusably cross, and for several months
had added little to the family comfort or plea-
sure. She had always been the odd one in the
family, dreamy and artistic in temperament,
while Ted, Harry, and Ethel were remarkable
only for splendid health and fine spirits. Mar-
die liked to curl up in a chair and spend an
afternoon wandering in enchanted lands with
VOL. XXIII.-6o. 4

Hawthorne or Dickens or Scott, better than go-
ing skating, and preferred sunsets to buckwheat
cakes. In these ways she differed from the
others, showing also a marked taste for writing;
but up to the time when Miss Travers, society
woman and writer as well, went to board in
Denfield, Mardie was contented with her simple
country life and as merry as the others, despite

-

"WITH HAWTHORNE OR DICKENS OR SCOTT."

the necessary economy which the family of a
minister in a small country parish must practise.
But from the day when Miss Travers fell in

MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE.

love with the girl's fresh beauty and artistic
temperament, and took her for an intimate
friend, Mardie was as one bewitched. The
friendship of a woman of the world, so much
older than herself, flattered the girl to such an
extent that she began to feel she must be a
very rare person indeed, and wholly unappre-
ciated by her family, who seemed to think their
own tastes and interests as important as hers;
and her feeling of superiority was increased
when at Miss Travers's suggestion she sent one
of her stories to an editor, who by some lucky
chance promptly accepted it.
That was conclusive. It proved to Mardie
that she had a destiny beside which all other
work and pleasure paled. The praise of Miss
Travers, and her advice to go on working until
some day she should wake to find herself famous,
dazzled Mardie and intoxicated her. She wrote,
she read, she dreamed, neglecting every duty
and old friend, and scorning her mother's quiet
counsel to go slowly. Of course the family
were all delighted with her success, but that
did not satisfy Mardie. She took it as a mat-
ter of course that they should praise her, acting
as if she had done the family a great honor by
being a member of it, and every lapse on their
part into interest in anything else' besides her
work and her career was resented.
Mrs. Humphreys, distressed at Mardie's sud-
den intimacy with the stranger, for it seemed to
be spoiling her disposition, decided to go to Miss
Travers and frankly tell her of the influence
she was exerting over Mardie; but, on the very
day when she made this resolve, a cablegram
summoned Miss Travers abroad. With time
for only a hurried farewell to her favorite, she
went away, utterly unsuspicious of the mischief
she had wrought in the Humphreys family.
After that Mardie was more trying to live
with than ever. No one pleased her, everything
annoyed her. She scorned old companions
and quoted Miss Travers so frequently that
the boys did not hesitate to say "they wished
that woman had been drowned before she was
born."
Mardie began to write more ambitious stories,
with complicated plots in which titled foreign-
ers, statesmen, and "society queens played a
prominent part; and then she sent them to

magazines and papers, and when they were
"returned with thanks she moped, remaining
in such a mournful frame of mind that it cast
a gloom over the household.
"James, I am firmly decided to accept Cousin
Harriet's offer," Mrs. Humphreys said to her
husband on the day of the sleighing party, and
while Mardie was still shut in her room. It
will be the best thing in the world for her;
and I want you to repeat to her what I shall
say, too-that whatever expenses she incurs,
you will expect her to repay you from the
money she earns."
An amused smile lighted up Mr. Hum-
phreys's face, and he was about to speak, but
his wife interrupted him. "Yes, dear, I know
what you would say; but trust me, I under-
stand what I am doing. I shall go and tell
her now."
Upstairs in Mardie's room the bright winter
sun was streaming through the windows, the
fire was crackling merrily, and the canary was
chirping a happy refrain; but Mardie was deaf
and blind to everything but herself. For a
time she lay on the sofa, reading; then, throw-
ing down her book, she went to the window
and listlessly looked out at the snowdrifts piled
on both sides of the broad street-drifts so
high that fence-rails were lost to sight, and
from end to end the street had almost the effect
of a tunnel through the snow, the white houses
bordering it seeming but drifts themselves.
"Stupid old hole!" she exclaimed to herself,
and then listened as there came a knock at the
door. No answer. Mardie was not in a hu-
mor to respond. A second knock, a third,
then without waiting longer Mrs. Humphreys
walked in and seated herself on the end of the
lounge, while Mardie still gazed intently out of
the window.
Dead silence. Suddenly Mardie turned and
faced her mother.
"Well ? she asked, elevating her eyebrows.
"What is it ? "
"Margaret!" Gentle Mrs. Humphreys sel-
dom used that name, and whenever she did
Mardie knew that she was in danger of reproof.
"Margaret, I wish to have a serious conversa-
tion with you. I "
For pity's sake, don't! interrupted Mardie,

474

[APRIL,

MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE.

hurriedly. Don't, mama; it won't do any
good."
My child, you are making us very unhappy
by your conduct; do you know it ? "
"Know it ?" echoed Mardie. I know that
lam the unhappy one, and I should think you
would pity me instead of blaming me. I think
you might see how dreadful it is for me to be
buried here, with no advantages, and no society,
and no anything. I might as well have no
talent, for all I can do with it. Can't go to
college; can't travel; can't see any life except
in this old place, where there are a lot of stupid
people who know only about crops and their
neighbors' business. If I could only visit, even,
in a city, it would be better than nothing.
It is wrong, it is dreadful, it is wicked-in-
deed it is! I could write fine stories, and
make ever so much money, if any one would
help me. I know I could. You can't under-
stand how I feel, because you are contented
here. What can I do? No one wants to read
about a place like this. Of course my stories
are returned, and I suppose they always will be."
Mrs. Humphreys had listened in absolute si-
lence to this tirade, and she waited until Mar-
die had angrily flung herself into a chair, and
the echo of her last words had died away. Then
she spoke sternly and with decision, and looked
fixedly into the girl's flushed face:
"You need not worry any more," she said.
"It is a pity you wasted so many words. I
came to tell you that you are to go to Cousin
Harriet's in New York for the rest of the win-
ter. There you will have regular hours for
study and work, and a chance to see some
people 'in society.' Your expenses you will
of course repay to papa from the money you
earn. You must improve this opportunity, for
unless you can entirely support yourself, you
will eventually have to come back to this
'old place' and the stupid people in it. You
are to go next week."
Mardie's mouth and eyes opened wider and
wider while her mother was speaking; and
from utter astonishment she was silent, trying to
realize the greatness of her good fortune.
Oh-h-h! she gasped at length. I am
Oh, how perfectly heavenly! It is too good
to be true, you blessed, darling mother!"

475

But Mrs. Humphreys evaded the caress that
Mardie offered. It is too late for that, Mar-
die," she said quietly. Any one can be pleas-
ant when she has what she wants."
There was severe reproof in her words, but
Mardie was too excited even to notice it.
Clasping her arms around her mother's waist,
she repeated ecstatically :
Now I shall do something. Oh, it is too
good to be true! "

But it really was true, as Mardie realized on
the following Wednesday, when she found her-
self alone, a stranger in a great, bustling, noisy
city, being driven to the house that was to be
her home for some time to come.
Cousin Harriet's house, with its luxurious ap-
pointments, her maids, and men-servants, the
pretty daughter, a debutante of that season,
the novel sights and sounds of the city, were all
a revelation to Mardie.
What a bewildering, complex life it was that
she had come to study !
This was her thought on the morning after
her arrival, as she lay listening to the rattle and
rumble in the streets, and the far-off echo of
trains and whistles in the distance; and then
she sighed as though, despite the daintiness of
her surroundings, things were not exactly as she
had expected.
To tell the truth, her arrival in the city had
not made quite the stir she had counted on.
She had rather expected to be received with an
ovation, for when her story was published Cou-
sin Harriet had written praising her cleverness,
and Mardie had felt that her arrival would be an
event. But she found that guests in the city
were a matter of course, and talent and bril-
liancy as well. On that first bewildering night
she felt, with a sinking at heart, that every one
was clever, and possibly more so than herself.
This gave her an unpleasant feeling of insignifi-
cance, as did the words which accompanied her
hearty welcome,-" Your mother's daughter is
welcome, dear; she is a wonderful woman,"--
which sentiment she heard repeated on all
sides. It annoyed Mardie greatly that she
should have come to the city to be received
cordially because of the merits of one of her
family instead of for her own sake.

MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE.

*11 _

"'YOU WILL BE OLD BEFORE YOUR TIME, MARDIE, IF YOU SHUT YOURSELF UP SO PERSISTENTLY,' SAID HER COUSIN."

Cousin Harriet gave over to her a small
fourth-story room in which she could write and
study unmolested.
You must make yourself as much at home
as if you were my daughter, dear," she said.
" Eloise and I are busy persons, and we shall
have to accept many invitations in which you
are not included; but I know you will not
mind, since you will be so absorbed in your
scribbling" (Scribbling, indeed!), "will you?"
And to this Mardie answered, with a confi-
dent toss of her head, No, indeed, dear Cousin
Harriet; not in the least. My work will be
all-absorbing. I come to write about people,
not to be amused. I intend to be the family

breadwinner." She was, nevertheless, a bit
lonely; for the busy world around her went on
as though she were not in it, and few who came
to the house knew, or cared to know, of her lit-
erary aspirations. Her cousins were kindness
itself to her, and she was taken to places of
amusement and to see the sights as often as
she could be persuaded to condescend to such
trifles; but that was not often.
Once or twice her cousin remonstrated with
her. You will be old before your time, Mar-
die, if you shut yourself up so persistently," she
urged. "How can you expect to write about
the world if you never take time to see it ? "
But Mardie answered patronizingly, "That

[APRIL,

Alli -^
*; "- -/ ^ "

MARDIE'S E

shows that you have never tried writing, Cousin
Harriet. Writers have to lead a very different
life from society people. They don't really
need to see things; all they need is the atmo-
sphere,' you know."
Oh! said Cousin Harriet, in an amused
voice; and the subject was not mentioned again,
nor were any more suggestions made to Mardie
concerning her use of time; and she followed
the dictates of her judgment without a com-
ment from any one. Strange to say, however,
this was more annoying to her than advice
had been, and she was thoroughly miserable
from "lack of appreciation," as she mentally
called it.
The longed-for material was at her hand.
She saw brilliant men and women constantly, as
well as Eloise's gay young friends, who were al-
ways coming and going with the latest bit of
society news or humor. She breathed a gen-
uine city atmosphere, where life was a mad rush,
where conversation flashed with repartee and
jest, and where every moment of day and night
was utilized to best advantage. And yet she
could not write The letters from home were
short and told little news, but each one re-
peated the question, "What have you pub-
lished ? How much are you making ? and
as the weeks went by the question became more
and more humiliating to Mardie, and more
and more often the words came to her mind,
" Your expenses you will of course repay to
papa from your earnings "; and at last, in des-
pair, she made herself write, hastily putting on
paper whatever came to her mind. She wrote
stories, sketches, verses--about the city, its
streets, its shops, the people. She used the so-
ciety personages about her for heroes and hero-
ines: working herself up at last to a degree of
her old feeling of satisfaction in herself and
contempt for the rest of the world.
Then, when she had quite a variety of work
ready, she sent it out to several magazines,
and waited expectantly for the harvest of checks,
so sure of success that she even counted up what
she would be likely to make, and indulged in
several extravagances; and then, one by one,
every poem and sketch and story was returned
with a printed formula of polite regret! Over
and over she sent them out, with genuine cour-

EXPERIENCE. 477

age, and tried not to wince when the long, fat
envelopes promptly came back.
For the sake of criticism, finally, she read
some manuscripts to Eloise; but her cousin was
always in a hurry, and danced away declaring
them to be perfectly lovely," and Mardie
gained nothing from her; Cousin Harriet hated
to be read to, and would not take the time
to decipher a page of Mardie's illegible writ-
ing; so whom to ask for help, the girl did
not know. She began to be less sure of her-
self, to feel that perhaps there was something-
some minor detail, of course that might make
her work salable, if she only knew what was
needed. At times it suggested itself to her that
perhaps she had mistaken her career, although
she never confessed this weakness to any one.

H ,:,,, c .:.Li h,
bear to p-, bla.k t.-.
tiit i D nrl-i.:!d,"
and c,:,:,,,r rl-,h .ie ij
had h d .:,,[:.runi.
tics and li.id n,:,
bten A:L.I:- t-, uL1ic ,.
th'em, hiL-.l reen tlie
w.:.rld i nd r I.- .ad
not become fam-
ous ? She felt that LEAVING THE EDITORS OFFICE.
(SEE NEXT PAGE.)
she would not dare
to face her mother with the record of not
having earned a cent. What should she do?
At last, one afternoon, acting on a sudden

MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE.

impulse, she determined to go to an editor -a
man for whom she had the greatest reverence
as critic and successful writer as well and ask
his judgment on her work. Possibly, in the
amount of material presented for reading her
articles had been overlooked, and he would ac-
cept them after a personal interview. So, with
a bundle of manuscripts in her muff, and more
hope in her heart than she would have had
if she had known the opinion of the gentleman
regarding young writers who persisted in in-
terviewing him, she started out. Fortunately
for her, she ran across him in the hall of his
building, and inquired of him in which of the
many rooms she would find the editor. As it
happened, it was a time when he was not very
busy; he was in one of his blandest moods, and
her fresh young face appealed to him; so he
admitted his identity, and ushered her into his
office.
Smiling rather grimly, he asked her errand,
mentally exclaiming, Hope it is n't poetry! -
the poetical ones are the worst! In a shaky
voice she told him of her work, and of her dis-
appointments, and that she was sure it was the
fault of the public, and not of her writing; how-
ever, she would be very grateful if he -would
read one of her stories while she waited, and
give his opinion of it. She amused and inter-
ested him, and he was rather curious to see her
work; so, bowing assent, he took her proffered
manuscript and withdrew to a chair by the win-
dow, and began to read very rapidly, while Mar-
die occupied herself with picturing his rapturous
praise and her cool reception of it, when he
should have finished. Presently, looking over
the top of his glasses, he demanded:
"Have you any others with you?" And
with a hand that trembled, in spite of her effort
to seem calm and collected, she handed him
the other sketches she had with her, and again
he relapsed into silence.
At last, just as she had decided that he must
be asleep,-he was so quiet,-he rose, and go-
ing over to a desk, took from it a volume, and
then took a chair nearer to her, clearing his
throat as he handed her back her manuscripts.
My young friend," he said, "can you bear
the truth ? "
Mardie blushed and stammered, and finally

said that she supposed she could, and wondered
what was coming next.
Well, then," he said, "here it is. These sto-
ries are absolutely useless from a professional
standpoint. They're not genuine. There is n't
any perspective in them. To write about any
side of life, you 've first got to live it, hard and
fast, and feel it to your very heart's core; or
else you must have a creative imagination,
which only one person in ten thousand has.
My advice to you is to throw these things away,
and begin again. You express yourself well,
but, somehow, you 've got hold of the wrong
end of your art. Almost any one can express
himself clearly, if he takes pains; but, you see,
that does n't make a writer. All this stuff
-pardon my brutality--about the conven-
tional side of life has been written threadbare,
and every editor is sick to death of it. In fact,
.it won't sell. The man who succeeds in litera-
ture nowadays has got to be willing to take
time and probe below the surface of human
nature, to love ordinary human beings every-
day mortals, mind you, not dukes and duch-
esses enough to discover in them material
for all the love-stories and heroic poems ever
written. Now, here 's a book just published"
- glancing at the volume in his hand -" that
is sure to live, and make its author famous.
The woman lived with her characters and
for them, until she understood just how their
natures must work themselves out to be con-
sistent with the human soul. Then after she
had digested her knowledge, and got her per-
spective, she wrote their lives out in the sim-
plest English; and she is going to reach the
heart of the public, unless I am very much mis-
taken. Get the mainspring in order, and the
watch will go--and, by the way, I must go
myself; my spare time is up."
Into Mardie's hand he put the volume he had
been holding, saying hurriedly:
Keep it; it may be of service to you; and
remember that, as a rule, the simplest stories are
the best. I wish you success, and hope some
time to accept some of your work. Good
morning." With a courteous bow he ushered
her out, and, before she knew it, Mardie found
herself on the way up-town, bewildered, morti-
fied, and forlornly conscious of failure.

478

[APRIL,

z896.] MARDIE'S EXPERIENCE. 479

There was no one at home, so she went di- Mardie," she had said, "I don't see why you
rectly to her "den," and sinking into a chair, call me so much more fortunate than yourself.
began to read the new book. She did not
stop to examine the title-page o:- Ir:.riri:n .,
piece, but opened in the middle, ind i
voured page after page; and as :i .-i ii ,' '
she grew more and more astonished, nij .-it )1 ''j1 i i 1 .__:.__.
length the book fell from her graspi ., -h.i.r
gave herself a little shake, exclaiminL !:l i u ',d
"Why, I knew those people; ,_,:l,,1 I ', .
have written that!" And ,
then an impulse made her '' f i
turn to the title-page, and V 'K .... ii'
there she saw: .IIU ,

NEW ENGLAND SKETCHES,
BY
ANNA KEITH HUMPHREYS.

Her mother a writer!-on ,jr'rAl V
the way to fame! -adding to '-
the family income by her work!
Why, Mardie had laughed at 1"
her criticisms, had scorned her '
advice, and patronized her! She c-.
had thought that her fame would
cover her mother with glory, and
now the positions were reversed.
Mardie was tired, lonely, and dci.. :.ir: :.
her mistakes loomed up before hetl i...,r'li;i
high; and the thought was not a plkaaul oine
that, if she had only realized how to work, she
might have been much nearer becoming suc-
cessful than she was, even without her mor-
tifying New York visit. Any number of funny
exploits of the boys, and of quaint Denfield hap-
penings came to her mind, that she might have
practised on at home if she had been wiser.
Then she fell to wondering what Denfield peo-
ple were saying about the book, and how her
mother was acting in her new r61e. All at
once an almost overpowering desire came over
her to see them all to be in the midst of
the rejoicing. A vision of the little mother
as she had seen her many a time, mend-
ing and planning by lamplight, that Mardie
might be ready for some merrymaking, came
before her. She heard her voice, My child,
you are making us very unhappy by your con-
duct; do you know it? She thought of Eloise's
answer to one of her envious speeches. Why,

I I

.... ---- - '. Pr _-..- -

-- -- ," -"
{ t -- --- )-- -------1.[. '1! 1 .-i l

"MARDIE WAS TIRED, LONELY, AND DISCOURAGED."

I would give all my things to have your jolly
country life with Ethel and the boys." Next
she thought of Miss Travers, of her old friends
and her old self; and then, the precious book
tightly clasped in her arms, she flew downstairs
to her cousin's room, half blinded from sitting
so long in darkness, and flung the book in her
lap, saying excitedly:
"Look at it! Look at it. I must go home
right away! Next winter, if you will have me,
I will come again and be more with you and
Eloise. Oh, but I 'm proud that she is my
mother! I am going to be famous, after all! "
And the telegram despatched to Denfield
that night read as follows:

THERE was in the room an air-tight stove
which particularly attracted Canton Quimby's
attention. But though he explored it so far as
to thrust a hand, and afterward his face, into
it, and to poke a stick in the ashes and up into
the stove-pipe, he made no discoveries.
As the search progressed and gradually be-
came narrowed down to some unpromising
rubbish, the light of expectation faded from
Melverton's face, and he began to walk about,
looking dubiously at the floor.
"We may have to pull up a loose board or
two," he said.
"That's right; rip 'em up!" cried the old
gran'sir. "Tear the shop down, if that will
satisfy you."
He was evidently growing sceptical, and
there was a tone of sarcasm in his speech.
"I don't think that will be necessary," the
young man replied calmly. "We '11 try to
leave everything in as good shape as we find
it. See a movable board anywhere, Canton? "
And Canton Quimby murmured in his ear:
"I 'm afraid we 're barking at the wrong
hole for your fox. That old heavy-weight is
too willing. He 's leading us on a false scent."
Think so?" And Fred gave a keen but
puzzled look at the old man, who sat fanning
himself with his tattered hat.
There 's craft in that colossal turnip-head,"
his friend whispered. I can see the cunning
in his eyes. He 's shaking inside now, with a
small earthquake of fun, to think how he has
bamboozled you."
I can't think it," said Melverton, although
there was indeed a gleam of something like tri-
umph in the broad Pudgwick visage. "Any-

how, I 'm not going to give it up yet. If we
don't find it here, we '11 look in the barn be-
low."
Here 's somebody that can help you,"
called out the old man, as his grandson just
then bounced into the room.
Having seen moving figures through the
windows from below, and noticed the two bicy-
cles at the gate, Osk had mounted the stairs
two steps at a time, and hurried in to see what
was going on in the old shop. At sight of
Chief Hazel and the two young men, he
stopped and stared.
Why, I did n't know you had company,
gran'sir! he said, with a forced laugh.
"Well, I have, and I 'm glad you 've come
to help entertain 'em," replied the gran'sir,
tartly.
"What 's the powwow ? Osk inquired, with
a brazen attempt to conceal his manifest em-
barrassment. Think of buying gran'sir's
shop ?" he demanded impudently of Fred.
Going into the house-and-sign painting busi-
ness ? "
Not while he has so industrious a grandson
to succeed him," Fred answered.
Good! a first-rate hit! said Osk, with a
nervous chuckle. I owe you one! "
"Perhaps it will turn out that you owe me
more than one," Melverton replied, without a
smile. I miss something from our place, and
we have come here to look for it."
"Here?" said Osk, with an appearance of
great surprise. Perhaps I can help you; only
I can't conceive what you 're talking about."
Oscar! said the old man, sternly, if you
know what 's good for yourself, tell a straight
story. What did you bring up here from the
woodshed in that tin pail three mornings ago? "
That pail ? I don't remember. Oh, yes!"
said Osk, his pretense of bewilderment giving
way to a very natural laugh. I was going
48o

THE PRIZE CUP.

a-fishing, or thought I was; and I had a pail
for my lines and things, and to get my live bait
in. But I did n't go."
Now let me ask a question," said Fred.
Ask away returned Osk, with gay au-
dacity.
"Then please tell me,- what did you bring
home under your coat-flap the night before,
when some boys saw you come out of Elkins's
orchard and get over the wall ? "
Osk's assurance was shaken for a moment.
But he rallied quickly.

"Then I suppose you had homed pout for
breakfast, that morning, Mr. Pudgwick ?" Fred
observed.
"If I 'm to speak the truth," said the small
voice at the top of the big chin, there hain't
been a horn' pout in my house this twelve-
month."
Course not," struck in the grandson, with
resourceful mendacity. Gram'er makes such
a fuss dressing 'em, I concluded I 'd fling it to
the pigs."
Fred exchanged amused glances with Can-

"The night before ? Why, nothing did -
I ? Oh, I know what you 're driving at! "-
another laugh. "I had a horn' pout; but it
was n't under my coat, not very much! "
Was it a white one ? Fred asked.
"A white horn' pout! Osk smiled at the
fantastic suggestion. I see what you mean.
I had him in my handkerchief. I had just
ketched him out of the river. You can ketch
'em only at night."
V'OL. XXIII.-6i.

ton Quimby, sitting quietly observant on a
trestle. Chief Hazel, who was all the time lis-
tening attentively, whilst continuing his search,
also smiled incredulously.
So," said Fred, after you had taken the
trouble to lug it home, and soiled your hand-
kerchief by putting it to so extraordinary a use,
you flung your horned pout to the pigs! "
Yes, I did," Osk declared stoutly. "It
does seem funny; I don't wonder you laugh.

THE PRIZE CUP.

But when a fellow ketches a fine fish, he hates to
throw him back; he naturally holds on to him
as long as he can,- likes to show him and brag
about him,- you know how it is yourself."
But I have n't heard that you showed him
to the boys who saw you getting over the wall,
or bragged about him to them," said Fred.
A quick color came into Osk's habitually un-
blushing face.
You think you 've caught me there," he re-
plied. All right! A fellow '11 take the trouble
to brag to some, and not to others. If you don't
believe me, you '11 find the head and horns
down there in the pig-pen now. Won't he,
gran'sir ? "
The old man gave a non-committal snort,
which was probably all that Osk expected.
Fred went over to the trestle on which his
friend sat, and asked, in a low voice:
What do you think, Canton? "
"Gas-logs! said Quimby, sententiously; from
which allusion to the artificial brands that burn
gas in some modern fireplaces Fred inferred..
an opinion not favorable to Osk's sincerity.
"The old man with the Tower-of-Babel chin
does n't take any stock in his stories, either.
As a practical prevaricator, he beats t' other
boy all hollow!"
I can't see any movable boards," Fred re-
plied; and the chief is at his wit's end. Is
there any use keeping on ?"
Yes, if only to go over the same ground
again," said Quimby. Do something; on with
the dance! I 'm trying to get behind that
truth-destroyer's eye."
"Your grandfather has kindly granted us
permission to search the premises," Fred said
to Oscar.
All right! said Osk, cheerily. "Can't I
assist ? Only give me the slightest idea what
you are hunting for."

CHAPTER XXV.

HOW OSK "ASSISTED."

THE floor-boards all seemed to be nailed
down; the plastered walls showed no signs of
a secret panel; and every object in the room
had been examined. Chief Hazel stood with

his hands behind him, evidently convinced of
the uselessness of further investigation.
Canton Quimby stepped forward, and looked
carefully along the edge of the floor, behind
the stove.
"Look here, Melf!" and he called his friend's
attention to some flakes of soot, under the
end of the funnel, where it entered the chim-
ney. You know the rule in whist ?"
"What rule ? Fred asked.
Follow soot!"
"You think- ? "
I 'm sure! his friend declared. Twice
I 've seen that inventor of fables cast curiously
anxious glances at the top-joint of the funnel.
That called my attention to it. It has been
taken out of the chimney quite lately; you see
this soot is fresh."
He turned a sudden look on the grandson,
who was watching them with a strangely intent
expression.
"We '11 have it down," Fred exclaimed
aloud, and called Chief Hazel to his side.
While they were in consultation, Osk stepped
smartly forward.
"That stove-pipe ? want it down ? said he.
"That 's easy. I had it down only a short
time ago, to clean it. I '11 show you."
There was an upright stretch of pipe from
the stove to an elbow, which connected with a
short joint that entered the thimble, about
seven feet from the floor. Canton Quimby,
who had previously examined the stove and
sounded the upright piece, was firmly convinced
that the short joint would reveal something;
nor was he to be deceived by Osk's obliging
offer of assistance.
Chief Hazel was slow to take in the situation.
Fred started to bring a box for him to mount
upon; but before he could get it in place, Osk
had set a stool at the other side of the stove,
stepped up on it, and, with a fragment of news-
paper in his hand, had seized the pipe near its
junction with the chimney.
I know just how it goes; I '11 have it down
for you in a second," he said, as he began to
wrench the short horizontal piece, working it
out of the thimble. "Here it comes! He ex-
posed the end, and slipped his newspaper over
the sooty edge. Now take care of the lower

[APRIL,

THE PRIZE CUP.

part, and the stove he cried, making a show
of tumbling the whole thing to the floor.
"Look out there! Canton Quimby shouted.
He was not assisting, but he kept careful
watch of every movement. He meant to call
attention to what Osk was doing; but the out-
cry only caused Chief Hazel to look more
closely to his own management of the lower
part of the funnel.
Osk seized the opportunity to thrust his hand
into the short section, reach some object, sweep
it swiftly into the opening of the chimney, and
drop it down the flue.
Did you see that? cried Quimby, spring-
ing eagerly forward.
Fred Melverton had looked up in time to
detect the trick.
I saw something wrapped in a newspaper
go into the chimney! he answered, excitedly.
Did you ? said Osk. "You saw the piece
of newspaper I was handling the pipe with. A
draft of air sucked it in. Got my fingers
smutched after all! "
Young man," said Canton Quimby, in glee-
ful earnest, "you have talents of a high or-
der. Put to some useful purpose, they would
insure you a brilliant career. But they won't
serve your turn here. Hand down that pipe! "
"Anything else ? Osk inquired, impudently.
The funnel was brought to the floor; and
Quimby, tipping and turning it, shook out Osk's
fragment of newspaper, which had not been
sucked into the flue.
"Well? what are you going to do about it ? "
said Osk, his short, hooked nose thrust forward,
and his eyes sparkling insolent defiance.
Since you have answered some of my ques-
tions, I '11 answer yours and more truth-
fully," Fred Melverton replied, with an air of
quiet determination. "I 'm going to explore
that flue to the bottom; get a mason to knock
out the lower bricks, if there 's no opening be-
low; and, in the meantime, I 'm going to ask
Chief Hazel to take, charge of you."
"All right," said Osk, promptly. "That's
just what I 'd do in your place. But you '11
find you 're very much mistaken as to the thing
that went down the chimney; and, what's more,
I can prove it."
No doubt, you can prove almost anything,

if you have the chance," said Melverton. It's
to keep you from having chances that I ask the
chief to take care of you. I '11 go with you to
Judge Carter's office, Mr. Hazel, and enter my
complaint."
Gran'sir," said Osk, with cool assurance,
"will you come along, too, and be my bail ? "
No, I won't! '' the old man exclaimed, fum-
ing with wrath and indignation. I 've stood
your bail and paid your fines too often. Now
if you 've got into a worse scrape than com-
mon, you may get out of it without any help
from me."
"All right, gran'sir," said Osk, cheerfully.
"'T won't be the first time I 've been in the
lock-up; but I never stayed long. Just let me
bid gram'er good by,"--as the chief laid a
hand on his shoulder.
I '11 see that this room is put in order later,"
Fred said to the old man. Can we find the
base of the flue ? "
Certain; I '11 show you; it 's in the barn-
cellar," replied the old man. You may knock
as many holes in it as you please."
"Thank you, Mr. Pudgwick. Mr. Hazel,
beware of that boy's tricks I '11 go for a ma-
son, and be at the judge's office about as soon as
you are. Old man," Fred said to his friend,
as they preceded the others down the stairs,
' what do you think now? "
"Want my opin'? I find I was mistaken
about the venerable chin-propeller," Quimby
admitted.
He 's perfectly upright, I am certain!"
Fred declared.
Yes; perpendic' as a bean-pole -though
not quite so slim. He was awfully anxious,
one time, that his cub of a grandson should get
clear. That 's what deceived me. But we 're
right about the cup."
They paused, before getting on their wheels,
to witness the meeting between Osk and his
grandmother, at the kitchen door.
Oh, child she said, in deep distress, be
you took up ag'in? "
It 's nothing," said Osk. I shall be back
here in a few minutes. Don't worry."
At the chief's suggestion, however, she went
to put up a hasty luncheon, which she brought
with trembling hands, and urged her grandson

483

484 THE PRI
to accept. As he indignantly refused it, Chief
Hazen said:
I '11 take it for him. He '11 need it before
he sees your table again."
And your bettermost coat, dearie," pleaded
the old lady, do put that on. I '11 bring it in
a minute."
No, no!" said Osk; and an ill-natured look
came into his eyes, which showed plainly the
kind of despot he was in the home of his
grandparents. I say no! do you hear? he
called after her, savagely, as she was going to
bring the garment. I don't want it, and I
won't have it! Come along, Cop!" And he
marched off with Chief Hazel.
Did you ever see such intolerable inso-
lence ? Fred remarked to his friend, as they
rode away.
Simply coloss'! replied Canton Quimby.

CHAPTER XXVI.

TEACHING THE DUMB TO SPEAK.

Oh, mama," exclaimed Ida Lisle, with filial
admiration, that afternoon, I do think you are
the most patient mother in all this weary world!"
What mother would not be patient in such
a cause ? Mrs. Lisle replied, with softly beam-
ing eyes. It is very slow, and very difficult,
and sometimes I should be quite discouraged
if I did n't constantly say to myself that what
has been done for others I may also do for my
dear child "
She was teaching deaf little Laurie to talk.
The affliction that deprived him of his hear-
ing had come before he had learned to speak
more than a very few words; and these he
seemed to have forgotten when, after a pro-
longed and dangerous illness, he regained his
bodily health. In his fifth year a few attempts
were made to teach him the printed alphabet,
together with the sign alphabet used by deaf-
mutes, but his restless activity had thus far de-
feated these efforts. It seemed impossible to
fix his attention upon what was so far outside
of his own little world; and the very facility
with which he had always found and used
more natural ways of communication was a
hindrance to his acquiring any other method.

ZE CUP.

[APRIL,

But of late Mrs. Lisle had abandoned the
alphabetical system and begun with him an
entirely new scheme of education. She was
teaching him to form articulate sounds, and to
read and imitate lip-movements.
He was much more patient under this dis-
cipline, since it awakened his curiosity and gave
him something to do. It was her custom to
place him in his high chair facing her, where he
could watch her closely. Then she would put
his little hands to use, to perceive the vocal move-
ments of her own throat, and to feel for them
at his own; and to feel the breath, soft or forci-
ble, as it came from her lips. She had never
received any instruction in teaching speech to
a deaf-mute; she only knew from what she
had read that it could be done, and she had
gone to work in what seemed to her the
simplest way.
It was a delight to little Laurie to find, as he
quickly did, that he could produce in his own
throat such tremblings as he felt in hers. And
what joy this first step in his vocal develop-
ment brought to the mother's fondly anxious
heart! Both clapped their hands over it, and
with mutual hugs and kisses celebrated the
event. Then each member of the household
had to come and feel the motions of the child's
throat, hear the sounds he emitted, and express
great surprise and delight.
The first intelligible word that came from
his hitherto dumb lips was mama, which he
quickly learned as the name of the dearest per-
son on earth. True, it was for two or three
lessons little more than muimmuzm; then the
final m was left off; and at length he was
made to open his mouth wide enough to
change the short ui sound to a/i. This triumph
alone was sufficient to reward the proud mo-
ther for all her previous trials and disappoint-
ments.
Oh! but how can he ever learn to read
words by watching our lips?" said Ida.
" Think how many do not come to our lips at
all, and must seem just alike to him!-nod,
not, dog, dot, got; in, it, ill, knit; at, cat, can,
can't, and hosts of others. Even if we should
look beyond the teeth, we would often see no
difference. Then so many sounds are formed,
even by the lips, in precisely the same way,-

THE PRIZE CUP.

be, me; men, pen; if, give; there 's no end of like many such talks-was going on, and he
them! seemed to know what it was about.
She said this even after Midget had achieved Mama! mama! he called triumphantly,
mama; not so much to throw doubt upon the as if in evidence of the truth of what she was
success of the undertaking, as to hear Mrs. saying; and he laughed as she caught him in
Lisle reiterate her assurances, her arms with tears of joy.
"Yes, my dear, I know all the difficulties, He spoke with the drawl peculiar to the
and I don't expect that all of them ever will be deaf, not always agreeable to hear; but it was
overcome. But they have been overcome in a the gladdest of sounds to Mrs. Lisle.
great measure by others; and who is brighter It happened to be the day when Tracy had
than our Laurie ? sent Fred Melverton and his friend Quimby on
Or who has a more devoted teacher ?" what he called theirfox-hunt. He had hurried
said Ida, with glistening eyes. home to tell his mother and sister, and there
No deaf person can ever distinguish all the had been much excited talk on the subject. So
sounds from merely watching the mouth," her it chanced that Ida suggested:
mother went on. Neither can you, Ida, dis- Make him say cup; that should be an easy
tinguish all the written letters, taken separately, word."
in your friends' correspondence. How often The mother had previously drilled him in the
the m's and n's and u's, and other characters, .sound of hard c, or k, with indifferent success.
run together, or look just alike! So that often Again she made him look into her mouth, and
there will be whole words you can't make out put one finger in, and to feel the sudden im-
by themselves. But
one word helps you to '- 7J.
the sense of another. i'." '" i .
Sometimes you have '
to glance through a add
whole sentence before ," '
you get an idea of .
its meaning, when all
comes to you like a
flash. It is in some
such way that the deaf "u
read spoken language.
Long practice makes
it almost intuitive."
Mrs. Lisle repeated .
some wonderful sto-
ries she had heard or
read of deaf persons, .-.. the
who could speak and J h .l ile
read lip-movements so well II .,-1, i-er
they could go about in s,,,:i, ry. I I I f.t
and even transact immo: ,irnt -r n I..,:,.-,on
business, without betraying their and vibrauon ul her
infirmity; and added : throat.
I am positive we shall make MIDGET REVEALS A SECRET. (SEE PAGE 487.) Kuh-kuh," he
an accomplished speech-reader repeated after her,
of our bright little Laurie, and perhaps prepare making the sound very distinctly.
him for a useful and happy career." Oh, Laurie, what a dear, delightful little
He was resting in his chair while this talk- pupil you are she joyously exclaimed. And

THE PRIZE CUP.

again they had to hug each other, the child
laughing gleefully upon the mother's neck.
"Now try !" she said, having placed his fingers
again at her throat so he might know the
sound: Cup."
Come," drawled Laurie, prolonging the
sound through the nose after the closing of
the lips.
She had got from him a new word unex-
pectedly, and was as well pleased as if it had
been the right one. She made him pronounce
it over and over again, and by means of the
gestures he was familiar with, explained to him
its meaning.
Enough had been accomplished for one les-
son; but he was getting on so fast, things diffi-
cult becoming all at once unexpectedly easy,
that she resolved to make another trial of cip.
She showed him how the vibration of the
throat ceased with the closing of the lips, which
then opened with a slight percussion of the
breath. He was intensely interested. Both
were absorbed in the strange exercise, which
to an observer would have seemed incompre-
hensible and comic until the touching signifi-
cance of it was revealed.
Mr. Walworth chanced to enter just as
Midget, who had succeeded in enunciating cup,
immediately putting the two words together,
cried, Come--cup," and jumped from his
chair, too happy over his success to sit still
any longer.
I never saw such progress! exclaimed the
minister. "You will have him talking like any
other child almost," he put in conscientiously,
" in a few months."
He must learn the meaning of words as we
go along," said the joyous mother. Get a cup,
Ida; remember that he does n't know it by
name yet."
So a tea-cup was brought, and he was made
to understand that the word belonged to the
thing. Then he ran to the pantry, and brought
out his own silver drinking-cup, uttering all the
while, Cup, cup "
Then he left his own cup and the tea-cup on
the table, and ran to the outer door, beckoning
and calling:
Come cup / Come cup / "
He ran into his brother Tracy's arms.

CHAPTER XXVII.

AN AMAZING DISCOVERY.

"WHAT'S this ? cried Tracy, rushing into
the room. He is talking! Midget is talk-
ing "
In the excited state of his mind, that fore-
noon, while waiting to hear of the success of
thefox-hunt, it is no wonder that the seeming
miracle made him fairly shriek with rapture.
He in turn had to hold and hug the child,
while the manner of the miracle-working was
briefly explained; by which time Midget had
struggled from his arms, and was at the door
again, calling Come cup beckoning, and
alternately making a fluttering movement with
his arms, and forming a cup-like shape with his
hands.
"It is a bird's nest he means," said Mrs.
Lisle. He wants to show us one, and know
whether we call that a cup, too. Go with him,
Tracy, and explain it. I must see to the dinner
if we are to invite those young men."
Midget led the way, faster than his brother
cared to follow, down the slope to the brook-
side, and onward to the bridge; in the cool
shadow of which the child climbed the lower
wall of the abutment, to the end of a timber,
where the phcebe's nest used to be.
Must be the phcebes are building again,"
thought Tracy.
Midget had been the first to discover the ab-
sence of the old nest, and he had reported this
to his friends with childish grief and anger.
They, too, had been indignant at the robbery;
but more important events had lately driven the
subject from Tracy's mind.
"He is peeping-just as he used to peep
into the old nest," thought he, and his indigna-
tion revived, as he remembered how fond Mid-
get was of his feathered friends, and how little
fear of him they ever betrayed. Sometimes the
mother-bird would remain sitting on her nest,
while his little nose, as he climbed and peeped,
almost touched her. But where were the phoe-
bes now ?
Not a bird was heard or seen; nothing sang
but the brook.
"Come -come!" cried Midget, with his

486

[APRIL,

THE PRIZE CUP.

cheek against the end of the heavy string-piece,
where it rested on the wall.
Stepping along the little sandy beach that
bordered the bed of the streamlet, Tracy
stooped beneath the bridge; a growing sense
of apprehension falling upon him, with the cav-
ern-like shadow.
Then suddenly, as he put his cheek against
the child's, and, looking up, saw what the
child saw, he started back in utter amazement
and dismay.
For there, on the top of the wall, close
against the beam, from which the old nest had
been broken away by ruthless hands, was in-
deed a cup-shaped thing, but not a nest; an
actual cup the cup of all cups -
THE PRIZE CUP !

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A FAMILY COUNCIL.
WHEN Tracy returned to the house all the
joy of the morning had gone out of his face;
and he was followed reluctantly by Midget,
no longer repeating his first glad words all
the happiness faded from his face, too, which
was the face of a miserable little culprit.
Why, Tracy! Ida cried at sight of him.
"You look sick "
I am sick," he replied dejectedly, holding
one hand behind him. "Where's mama ?"
His mother was called, and she came in haste;
she regarded her two boys with anxious, inquir-
ing eyes.
"What has happened? was all she could
say.
Look at this! Tracy answered, in a choked
voice.
And with a countenance full of anguish he
held out an object which, it would seem, should
have gladdened any honest boy's eyes a
beautiful, silver-bright, gold-lined goblet.
Fred's cup !" Where did you find it? "
cried mother and sister at once.
Midget had it," said the boy, from the
depths of his wretched soul.
How did he come by it ? cried the mother,
with an amazed look at the little mischief-
maker, who stood peering in at the door, with
shy, expectant eyes.

487

He took it," said Tracy. He has told me
all about it."
"The stolen cup! How could he?" ex-
claimed the mother. What is this ?"
As Tracy handed her the goblet, she noticed
that the gold lining was half hidden by some
soft, matted substance, with which the hollow
was partly filled.
Come here !" she called, and motioned to
Midget, who, however, did not stir, but watched
eagerly to see what was to come of his strange
misdoing.
He has been up to the Melverton house
with me," Tracy explained, "and shown me
how he got into one of the dining-room win-
dows, from the piazza, and took the cup from
a sideboard drawer."
Oh, Laurie, Laurie !" groaned Mrs. Lisle;
while Ida in her turn examined the curious con-
tents of the goblet.
"As near as I can make out," Tracy pro-
ceeded, "he had peeked through the blinds
and seen Gid Ketterell handling it, and showing
it to somebody Osk Ordway, I suppose. He
already had a spite against Gid; so when he
missed the phoebe's nest under the bridge, he
took the cup. For what, do you think ? "
In her amazement and distress, the poor mo-
ther could n't conjecture.
To be revenged on Gid," suggested Ida.
"Though it does n't seem as if he could have
looked so far ahead as that."
No, not for that," Tracy replied. "But it
was really to pay the birds for the loss of their
nest. That 's what he put this fine grass in
it for -as something inviting for them to lay
their eggs in."
And in the midst of his intense chagrin, the
elder brother had to laugh at the pretty, fantas-
tic, childish notion.
He put the cup in place of the nest; and he
seems to have had no doubt that the phoebes
would adopt it, when they were ready to raise
another brood; and when he saw how sorry
I was about the nest, he thought he would
please me by pointing at the fine nest he had
made for them inside. It 's all as cunning as it
can be-but--oh!" and Tracy ended with
something like a yell of pain.
Mother and sister laughed, too, with tender

1896.]

THE PRIZE CUP.

mirthfulness; and with bright tears in her for-
giving eyes Mrs. Lisle held out loving arms to
the waiting Midget. He rushed into them, and
nestled affectionately to her.
"Why were you so horrified ? queried Ida.
" One would think you were not glad the cup
was found."
Of course I am glad! but to have it turn
out that Midget is the rogue said Tracy.
"But he meant no harm. He only meant
to do an act of justice to the birds,- the pre-
cious little innocent! the mother exclaimed,
rocking the little fellow to and fro.
Fred Melverton will laugh- they all will
laugh! said Ida, with a merry peal. It 's
the funniest thing I ever heard! "
Funny! Tracy echoed, with a lugubrious
grin. But there 's one that won't laugh;
he '11 get laughed at! I 've done such a smart
stroke of detective business! I was so sure of
everything! And my telegram to Fred!" he
added, his voice running up into a falsetto of
comic despair.
Ida wiped her eyes and said:
Why should you care for that ? It was all
a mistake."
Don't I know it was a mistake, without be-
ing told?" cried Tracy. "Have n't I found
it out to my sorrow? I fairly grew fat on my
grudge, when I found Gid was discharged un-
der suspicion; and I was just the biggest fel-
low in this town when I took his place and

set about ferreting out the robbery. How can
I tell Fred that Gid and Osk had nothing to
do with it, after the ridiculous fox-hunt I have
sent them on? Oh, my gracious! his voice
tending again to the wild falsetto.
Mrs. Lisle, still rocking the child, her face
full of tearful smiles, admitted sympathizingly:
"It will be a little humiliating, no doubt."
"A little humiliating!" Tracy almost shouted.
"It 's the most crushing thing that ever hap-
pened to me. Do you know, when I saw the
cup on the wall I was tempted to leave it there
and say nothing about it: to let the suspicion
still rest on Gid and Osk! Would you believe
I could be so mean? And he scowled with
bitter self-reproach.
"It would have been mean and wicked
enough if you had listened to the temptation,"
said his mother. But I know you did not for
a single moment. I know you could n't do
such a wrong, even to an enemy. Better the
truth, though it shames us, than any advantage
gained by an act of injustice."
Ida was about to empty the cup of its curi-
ous contents, in order to dust and brighten it;
but Tracy cried out to her:
Don't do that! I want Fred to see it just
as it is. Oh! what luck is he having with his
fox-Aunt, I wonder! "
"Here he comes right into the yard!" Ida
exclaimed, stepping quickly aside from the open
window. He and his friend, on their wheels!"

(To be continued.)

A PUZZLING EXAMPLE.

BY VIRGINIA SARAH BENJAMIN.

DoT is five and Jack is ten,
She 's just half as old as he;
When she 's ten, why, Jack will be.
Only one third more than she.
When Jack is twenty she '11 be then
Just three fourths as old as he.
Now Dot 's puzzled-don't you see?-
To know just how long it will be
Till she 's as old as brother Jack,
Who now is twice as old as she.

488

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

By ALBERT STEARNS.

[Begun in the January number.]

CHAPTER VII.

TREASON.

"I THOUGHT you 'd never be done," said
Selim in a whisper to his prisoners as he es-
corted them from the courtyard. "I never
knew the Sultan to be so talkative before;
usually he 's a man of very few words. What
in the world were you talking about, anyway ? "
Oh, all sorts of things," replied Sindbad
evasively. "And now," he added quickly,
"please tell me one thing: what did the Grand
Vizier mean when he told the Sultan that his
better nature was coming back ?"
"Did n't you understand that? Why, our
Sultan has two separate and distinct natures:
one of them very, very bad, and the other,
which comes on only once in a while, very
good. The former we call his bad nature,
the latter his better nature. Oh, how we do
dread the coming of that better nature!"
"Why, I should think you 'd be glad," said
Tom. "Is n't he very ugly when his bad na-
ture is on ? "
"Usually he is," answered Selim, "but we
can stand that better than the freaks in which
his better nature leads him to indulge. Why,
when that better nature of his is ruling him
we can't get a man convicted of any crime, he
is so merciful. Life and property are imperiled.
Two or three times he has emptied the prisons
while under the baleful influence of his better
nature, and turned loose all sorts of dreadful
characters."
How soon do you think another attack of
his better nature is due?" asked Sindbad
anxiously.
Oh, we can never tell; sometimes he has
two or three a month, and then again a year
will elapse without his having one. As he had
VOL. XXII1.-62. 4

a real bad spell of it only last month, I feel
sure he won't have another at present. I think
something ought to be done for him; he might
be vaccinated, or something of that sort, but
I 'm not a medical man, and I really could n't
undertake to prescribe for him. He feels as
unhappy about it as any one else, but he can't
help it; so, you see, we have n't the heart to
blame him. But here we are at your prison."
He paused before a small stone building, the
door of which he threw open, saying:
"Step right in. Grope around and you '11
find a couple of couches, upon which you '11 be
able to make yourselves comfortable for the
night. By the way, when is the execution
coming off, Sindbad? "
"That point has n't been settled," replied
the explorer. Let me ask you, please, whether
you are a Sindbadite or an Anti-Sindbadite ?"
"An Anti-Sindbadite, of course," replied
Selim promptly. I could n't be anything else
and hold my present position at court. Are
you hungry? "
Yes, indeed!" replied Sindbad and Tom
in unison.
"So am I," said Selim; "and I 'm going
right home to get a square meal. Wish I
could invite you, but I can't. Well, good
night."
He was about to push his prisoners uncere-
moniously into the house when Sindbad inter-
posed, saying:
Wait a minute, please. Can't we have
something to eat ? "
Not a mouthful," replied Selim. "I am
not empowered to furnish you with anything
but information, and not much of that. But I
must n't stand here all night. Please step
inside."
Sindbad and Tom obeyed, and Selim closed
and locked the door with a short Good night."
The explorers groped about in the darkness
89

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

until they found the two couches to which their
custodian had referred. Thoroughly exhausted,
they threw themselves down, uttering simulta-
neous sighs of relief.
"Well," said Tom, after a short silence, did
you ever have an adventure quite as queer as
this ? "
Lots and lots of them," replied Sindbad.
"What is there that is so very extraordinary
in this ? "
"I can't understand how a city like this and
a river like the New Bosphorus can have ex-
isted for generations in America they must be
in America, for we have n't had time to get out
of the country and never been discovered
before."
Oh, that sort of thing is nothing new in
my experience! responded the great explorer.
Why, look at the previously unheard-of coun-
tries visited by me even when I was a mere be-
ginner like you. There are several such instances
recorded in the 'Arabian Nights.'"
That's so," admitted Tom; "but there were
no railroads then, nor telegraph or telephone
lines, nor-"
"Well," interrupted Sindbad irritably, "we
have pretty good proof that New Bagdad and
the New Bosphorus do exist, have n't we?
Next thing you '11 want to prove that you and
I are only imaginary beings. I wish you would
let me rest; your attempts at argument have
really given me quite a severe attack of head-
ache."
Tom said no more. In a few minutes both
explorers were sound asleep.
They were awakened the next morning by

the voice of Selim crying:
"Ahoy, there! "
Starting up, they saw the
standing in the doorway.
Hungry still ? he asked.
Sindbad and Tom replied
hungrier than ever.
"That's good," said Selim

portly servitor

that they were

cheerfully, for

I 've brought you a real hearty breakfast."
And he tossed an apple to each of the pris-
oners, adding:
Don't eat too fast; it interferes with diges-
tion. I heard a very excellent lecture on the
subject once, and-"

Is this all we get for breakfast ? interrupted
Tom in dismay.
"Why, of course it is," replied Selim, with a
look of astonishment. "It's all anyone in New
Bagdad gets, and a pretty good breakfast it is,
to my way of thinking. If it does n't suit you
you can leave it."
He was evidently much offended; Sindbad
hastened to pacify him.
It is an excellent breakfast," he said, taking
a large bite from his apple. "Many a man
has a worse one."
"I should say so," replied Selim. "In New
Bagdad an apple is considered an unusual lux-
ury; I had to use a good deal of diplomacy to
get these two for you."
Tom was now devouring his apple, and star-
ing about the room--a barn-like apartment
about twelve feet square, furnished only with
the two couches upon which the explorers had
spent the night. As Selim paused he said:
"Oh, it 's first-rate, only I 'm used to some-
thing different!"
"To nothing half so good -of that I am
sure," said Sindbad, with a warning scowl. "I
trust you have not forgotten the horrors of the
Oakdale Hotel table."
Tom, who considered Mrs. Pettibone's buck-
wheat cakes and fried turnovers food fit for the
gods, was about to make an indignant response
when Sindbad, looking at his watch, went on:
Eight o'clock Dear me! how I have slept!
How is his Serenity the Sultan, this morning?"
"In excellent form," replied Selim. In fact
I 've never seen him looking better. I might
as well tell you the truth at once: he 's in his
bloodthirstiest mood, and is going to have you
both executed as soon as you show him how to
strike a light."
Tom dropped his apple, but Sindbad kept
on gnawing at the core of his with the most
unconcerned air imaginable.
"That '11 be all right," he said. His Seren-
ity and I will have no difficulty in settling the
matter."
"His Serenity will have no difficulty in set-
tling you," said Selim. "And now, if you 're
both ready, come on."
Where are you going to take us ?" asked
Sindbad-" to the palace?"

490

[APRIL,

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

"Exactly; and I wish you 'd hurry, for the
Sultan must be getting impatient by this time."
"We are ready; lead the way," said Sind-
bad, linking his arm with Tom's.
A crowd of men and boys was awaiting
them outside the prison, and followed them to
the door of the Sultan's palace, but ventured
no farther. They found the ruler of New Bag-
dad seated exactly where they had left him on
the previous night, and looking as if he had
not stirred since their departure. The Grand
Vizier and several other very important-looking
individuals stood beside him, and all scowled
fiercely at the prisoners as they paused before
the dais.
Tom felt very awkward and uneasy, and
somewhat disgusted, too. He had expected,
as Sindbad's partner, to meet with all sorts of
"moving accidents by flood and field"; to
spend his time, when he was not hunting wild
beasts, in clinging to tempest-tossed rafts, the
sole survivor--except the irrepressible sailor
of Bagdad-of shipwrecks of unprecedented
magnitude and horror. Instead of enjoying all
these delightful inconveniences and privations,
here he was a prisoner in New Bagdad, a place
very unlike his idea of Old Bagdad, and the
inhabitants of which he mentally termed only
a lot of grown-up babies."
He was rather disappointed in Sindbad, too;
he felt sure that if he had been in the explorer's
place he would have shown more spirit; he
thought that his partner had not properly main-
tained his dignity, and felt much humiliated by
the position in which the firm was placed. But
Sindbad did not seem in the least discomposed;
his face fairly beamed with good nature as he said:
Good morning, your Serenity. I sincerely
trust you spent a comfortable night."
"That 's all right," growled the Sultan;
"we 're here for business, not to exchange
commonplace remarks."
"Just the reply I should have expected from
a monarch of your wonderful mental caliber,"
gushed Sindbad. "Business before pleasure,
of course."
"Exactly; we '11 attend to the business now,
and execute you afterward."
"Very good!" giggled the Grand Vizier;
" very good, indeed! "

"Capital!" added Sindbad, with a laugh that
was plainly forced. "What a sense of humor
your Serenity has! I am strongly reminded
of the Caliph Haroun Alraschid."
Never mind all that," said the Sultan, with
a fierce scowl. "I want to see that sun-glass
work."
"Your Serenity shall see it work," replied
the great explorer, producing the glass. But
I must remind you of your Serenity's promise
last evening."
"That will be all right," said the monarch,
gazing nervously around him. "Go ahead
with the experiment."
Eh ? what's that ?" interrupted the Grand
Vizier. "To what promise does the dog of a
sailor refer ?"
The Sultan's face reddened.
"I 'd thank you to adopt a different tone
for the future when you address me," he said.
"The promise I made was that I would use
my influence in Sindbad's behalf in case his ex-
periment succeeded."
Your influence! sneered the Grand Vizier.
"What is your influence compared with that of
the Anti-Sindbad Society ? Now, I may as well
tell you right here-"
"Treason!" yelled the Sultan, starting up
from his throne.
"Call it that if you like," responded the
Grand Vizier haughtily. Gentlemen," look-
ing about him, do not let us remain here to
be insulted. Come with me, and we '11 have a
little talk about this matter."
"Traitor!" shouted the Sultan, "you are
deposed! The office of Grand Vizier is no
longer yours."
Maybe I '11 have yours, before you know
it," returned the ex-Grand Vizier as he marched
out of the courtyard, followed by everyone
present except the Sultan, Selim, Sindbad, and
Smith.
"Well, well, well! cried Selim, drawing a
long breath, "I never did! Who would have
thought it of the Grand Vizier? Such a nice
man as he always seemed; a little uppish once
in a while, but still always the gentleman. My,
my!"
"Selim," thundered the Sultan, I appoint
you Grand Vizier "

1896.]

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

Oh, this is really too much. Your-" began
Selim, but the monarch interrupted him with:
"That 's all right. We '11 have this sun-glass
exhibition now, and then the execution of Sind-
bad and his accomplice for I 'm just as de-
termined on that as ever."
Good for your Serenity!" laughed the new
Grand Vizier.
"After that," continued the Sultan, we '11
settle with those traitors."
Yes, we '11 have a real busy morning,
sha'n't we, your Serenity ? piped Selim. It '11
just suit me, for there 's nothing I like so much
as work. Say, let 's decide how to kill Sindbad
and his partner. Now Ithink a real nice way
would be to -"
We will leave that until after the experiment
is made," interrupted the Sultan. Now,
then,"- to Sindbad,- are you ready? "
"I am, your Serenity," replied the explorer,
taking the sun-glass from his pocket.

CHAPTER VIII.

A NARROW ESCAPE.

THE morning sun was shining directly upon
the dais. Sindbad took a piece of paper from
his pocket, placed it upof the pavement at the
monarch's feet, and held the glass over it.
Soon a black speck appeared upon the sheet,
which a moment later was aflame.
Wonderful! exclaimed the Sultan. I
never saw anything like that in all my days!"
Oh, I '11 show you stranger things than
that, if I stay here much longer," replied the
explorer.
I did n't bargain for this sort of thing,"
muttered Tom in a tone that could be heard
only by Sindbad. I thought we were going
to hunt lions and elephants, and "
"Be quiet! hissed his partner, and he sub-
sided.
Sindbad, you are a genius!" cried the
Sultan.
As the explorer bowed low, Selim interrupted
in a harsh, rasping voice:
"This is all very well, and I 'm sure I 'm as
fond of scientific investigation as any one in
New Bagdad, but I must protest against this

criminal waste of valuable time; as Grand Vi-
zier I think it my duty to remind your Serenity
that we ought to be making preparations for
war. You know how to work the sun-glass,
and can undoubtedly do it much more effec-
tively than Sindbad. Take possession of the
glass; have Sindbad executed; then I want to
have a talk with you about the state of affairs."
"Very good," said the Sultan. "Now,"
turning to the explorer, I shall have to ask you
to prepare for death and make haste about it."
All right, your Serenity," responded Sind-
bad cheerfully. "What particular style of ex-
ecution prevails in New Bagdad just now ? "
We have several different methods," replied
the Sultan, "and all of them cause the most
exquisite torture. I regret this on your ac-
count, for you have done me a signal service;
but, you see, my inherent cruelty and constant
morbid craving for excitement render it abso-
lutely necessary. If you had come here when
my better nature had possession of me, how dif-
ferent everything might have been But there 's
no use repining; let 's settle this business as
quickly as possible.
I say, your Serenity," interrupted Selim,
"we might as well let Sindbad's partner off,
might n't we? He 's only a boy; and I 'm
sure he 'd promise never to do it again."
We won't let either of them off," answered
the Sultan; then he turned to the two explor-
ers, saying, I '11 show you both every con-
sideration consistent with my thoroughly de-
praved and cruel nature. To begin with, I'11
give you your choice of deaths that is, your
choice of the various deaths included in our re-
pertoire. I don't want to ask anything unrea-
sonable, but since I 've conceded so much to
you. I think it would be a graceful act for you
to consent to be torn to pieces by wild horses,
which is my favorite method of execution. We
have some of the prettiest wild horses you ever
saw, too, gentlemen; I should think it would
be a real pleasure to be torn to pieces by them."
Oh, we could n't think of it!" said Sindbad
hastily. You see, we 're both nervous about
horses."
"Well, in that case I won't insist," returned
the Sultan; "though I had hoped you would
display a little more consideration for the feel-

492

[APRIL,

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

ings of one who -but no matter. How does
this idea strike you ? But hold on! "
The monarch pressed his hand to his fore-
head, and his face turned very pale.
As I expected!" groaned the new Grand
Vizier-" your better nature has come back! "
"Yes, it has," replied the Sultan. Really,
I don't know when anything has given me such
a turn! And to think that I was about to exe-
cute these two worthy creatures, one of them
the greatest explorer of this or any other age!
Your hands, my dear boys "
Sindbad and Tom both shook hands with
the Sultan, whose countenance now fairly glis-
tened with benevolence.
I knew you 'd think better of it, your Se-
renity," said Sindbad.
': I should n't if my better nature had n't
happened to come back just then," replied the
Sultan. You 've no idea how utterly reckless
I am when that bad nature of mine is turned
on. Why, it makes me shudder to think of it
now! But that 's all over--for the present;
and I hope neither bears any grudge against
me for what is my misfortune, not my fault."
Both Sindbad and his partner assured the
monarch that they cherished only the kindliest
feelings toward him.
"Well, now, that 's really very good of you
after what has passed," said the Sultan, and I
assure you that I appreciateit. I trust that you
both will remain my guests a few days at least."
Before the explorers could reply, a man with
disheveled hair and disordered garments came
rushing into the courtyard.
"Your Serenity," he cried, I am the bearer
of bad news."
Dear! dear exclaimed the Sultan, is n't
that always the way when I 'm feeling in par-
ticularly good humor ? Well, what is it ? "
The ex-Grand Vizier is mustering his troops
in the public square; the populace are crying,
' Down with Sindbad, Smith, and the Sultan!'
Immediate action is necessary."
"Was ever anything so provoking ? cried
the Sultan. Was there ever such an unruly
populace? Just as I am beginning to enjoy
myself quietly I am called upon to take 'imme-
diate action.' Selim, I appeal to you as Grand
Vizier. What shall I do ?"

"Will you follow my advice ? asked Selim,
in a voice tremulous with emotion.
"Yes."
"Honest ?" persisted the Grand Vizier.
"Well, I '11 try to," replied the monarch,
more cautiously.
"Then summon up your bad nature; have
Sindbad-and Smith, too,if you like- executed
at once; and then to battle! Don't allow this
weakness to overcome you; remember how
wicked you are most of the time, and try at
least to strike an average. On my bended
knees I implore it."
The Sultan was evidently touched.
"Selim," he said, "I understand your feel-
ings: but if you were to twist your knees all out
of shape I could n't do it. What! -execute
Sindbad and his youthful partner, whose only
offense is a desire to know more of our wonder-
ful country ? I could n't think of such a thing."
But you sent us to capture them," grumbled
Selim, and told us that if we were not back
on time you 'd have us all flayed alive."
"I 'm sorry for it," said the Sultan, and I
should think you'd have more delicacy than to
remind me of it. I 'd be obliged if you would
change the subject, Selim."
But we 've got this war on hand, your Se-
renity," said the ne'w Grand Vizier, growing
more and more excited, and we can't afford
to dawdle away any more time here. Suppose
you imprison these fellows until your bad na-
ture comes back ? How 's that for an idea ? "
I might do that," said the Sultan, thought-
fully.
No, you might n't, either, your Serenity,"
interrupted Sindbad. It would be cruel."
"So it would," replied the Sultan. Of
course while my better nature is on I could n't
do anything cruel."
Well, what is your Serenity going to do ? "
asked Selim, very impatiently. "Are we to
wait here until the Anti-Sindbad army comes in
and takes possession ? "
What do you think about it, Sindbad? "
asked the Sultan. I 'd be glad to have your
opinion, if you don't mind."
Is he the Grand Vizier, or am I ? mut-
tered Selim, but no one heard him.
Your Serenity," replied Sindbad, I would

SINDBAD, SMITH & CO.

suggest that you release my partner and my-
self, and then go ahead and thrash the traitors.
Nothing would give us greater pleasure than
to enroll ourselves under your flag, and fight,
bleed, and die in the good cause; but, unfortu-
nately, we have engagements in various parts
of the globe, which make it impossible for us to
do so. You understand our position, I trust."
The Sultan's face had lengthened consider-
ably during Sindbad's speech.
"I 'm awfully sorry to hear you talk like
that," he said. "I had hoped to see a good
deal more of you. Don't you think you'd bet-
ter reconsider your determination? No ? Well,
of course I could forcibly detain you, but my
better nature will not allow me to do so. I
should, however, be greatly obliged if you 'd
leave me that sun-glass."
"I do so with pleasure," replied Sindbad,
bowing low. "And now, your Serenity," he
added, in view of the fact that your time is
precious, I would suggest that you permit us to
take our leave at once."
"I suppose I must," sighed the Sultan,
"though I really hate to. Let me see, Sind-
bad; it has always been the custom, I think, of
monarchs who have entertained you to make
you a valuable present on your departure."
Well, yes," replied Sindbad, with a depreca-
tory smirk, "my royal hosts have been ex-
tremely liberal. Still, any little trifle satisfies
me say, a mule laden with gold or diamonds,
or something of that sort. As for my partner,
anything will do for him eh, Thomas ? "
I don't care for anything at all," said Tom,
"if I can only get home."
"Is n't he modesty itself, your Serenity ? "
said Sindbad. He is adamant when his mind
is made up; so you can give me his share."
"Very good," replied the Sultan, taking from
his pocket a long, narrow book and a pencil.
"Just now my treasury is not what it should
be, but I am hoping for better times. I will
write you a check for one hundred thousand
tooloos on the New Bagdad National Bank.
I shall date it a year ahead, for by that time
I hope I shall have a respectable balance."
"Your Serenity is too good!" exclaimed
Sindbad; but Tom saw that his partner was not
very well pleased with the gift.

I know it," said the Sultan; I always am
when my better nature has possession of me."
What is a tooloo worth? asked Sindbad.
"Well," replied the Sultan, "that depends a
good deal upon which of our three political
parties is in power. Just now a tooloo is worth
about five dollars in United States money."
"Then your Serenity has given me half a
million dollars."
Yes, but don't mention it I really sha'n't
miss it. Put the check in your pocket, and
think how much handier it is to carry about
than a mule staggering under a heavy weight
of gold or jewels. You 'd better take one, too,"
- to Tom,- it really won't be any trouble."
No, thank you," replied the boy politely.
"Well, just as you say."
Here another excited messenger rushed in.
Your Serenity," he panted, the enemy are
advancing. What 's to be done ? "
As he spoke, the hoarse roar of a multitude
was heard in the distance. Instead of reply-
ing, the Sultan turned to Sindbad and Tom,
saying, "You insist upon going at once ? "
"We do," the explorers replied together.
"Well, I 'm sorry, but I suppose you must
have your way."
Down with the Sultan Death to Sindbad
and Smith!" shouted many hundred distant
voices in unison.
The monarch turned pale.
Selim," said the potentate hurriedly, con-
duct our friends to the entrance to the subter-
ranean passage, and hurry back. And you "-
turning to the messenger who had just arrived
- "go to the royal store-room and bring me
the keg labeled gunpowder' that we found on
that wreck last year. I '11 see if with the aid
of this sun-glass I can't settle these traitors; I
knew all that flotsam and jetsam would come in
handy some day."
"Be careful how you fool with that gun-
powder, your Serenity," said Sindbad uneasily.
That 's all right, my boy," replied the Sul-
tan; I know what the stuff is. But I 've no
more time to talk. Good-by; if New Bagdad
only had postal communication with the United
States I 'd ask you both to write. Well, take
good care of yourselves. Follow Selim; he '11
see you through. Good-by good-by! "

(To be continued.)

Sio print this little placard
Took Johnny Smith all day:

ut the boy he meant to pin

it to

\Went

At
Vhen
h e
That at

round the other way !

first quite disappointed,
Johnny's anger cooled

could not help

admitting

least one boy was fooled.

!

t

HOW THE WHALE LOOKED PLEASANT.

By CHARLES FREDERICK HOLDER.

WHETHER a certain whale that breakfasted,
dined, and supped every day in the Santa Cata-
lina channel, went out one morning with the
determination of being photographed, I really
cannot say; but the picture was certainly taken,
and here is a careful copy of it.
Living in the neighborhood, the whale was
probably familiar with the steamer that plowed
daily through its dining-room; and if it was at
all an observing whale, it must have noticed on
the morning in question an unusual commotion
on the deck of the steamer, and this is what it
saw. The passengers were crowding about the
rail, and on the upper deck stood a man and a
little girl, the former holding a square black
box into which he looked earnestly. And if the
whale had come a little nearer this is what he
might have heard:
"Will he look pleasant? asked the little girl
of her companion.
"I hope so," he replied, glancing rapidly
from the camera to the whale that was then
swimming a few hundred feet away.
The passengers had first observed it a mile
or more distant, when the little girl said it was
"dancing on its tail." It had, really, leaped
out of water, and for a few seconds exposed al-
most its entire back,-most astonishing specta-
cle,-and then had fallen back into the sea with
a thundering crash. Soon it came to the surface
again, and shooting a cloud of vapor into the
air that slowly floated away, at intervals disap-
peared and reappeared until finally it came along-
side the steamer, swimming along within a short
distance. It was then that the fortunate pos-
sessor of the camera secured a good position near
the rail, and waited, as his little companion
had said, for the whale to "look pleasant."
Looking pleasant, in this instance, meant for
the whale to show a large portion of its body
above the water. It was now swimming just

below the surface, its huge black form, sixty or
seventy feet in length, distinctly visible, pro-
pelled by the undulating movement of the tail.
Suddenly it rose, showing just the portion
around the blow-holes, and with a loud puff the
hot breath burst into the air, was condensed,
and in a little cloud drifted away.
"Did n't he look pleasant? asked the little
girl, earnestly.
"Not quite pleasant enough," said the pho-
tographer, as he peered into the tiny window
of the camera that reflected the sea in brilliant
tints. "I could catch the spout, but I want to
wait until he throws his entire head out of water
and looks really pleasant before I touch the
button."
It was an exciting moment, as never, so far
as known, had a living whale, in the open
ocean, posed before a camera, or a photogra-
pher seen so huge an animal obligingly swim
along, allowing its picture to be taken.
It 's a tame whale, is n't it ? said the little
girl, as the whale gradually came nearer.
"He certainly does not seem very timid,"
replied her companion; and as he spoke, puff!
came the spouting 'like the escape of steam,
the vapor actually drifting aboard the steamer
into the faces of the passengers.
The whale was now so near that the barna-
cles upon its back could be seen, and one man
was sure that he saw its eye. Suddenly it sank,
and all that could be seen in the little window
was the dancing waves and the white sails of
myriads of velellas that covered the surface,
scudding along before the fresh trade-wind.
Then, without warning, the creature as suddenly
rose again, showing a large area of its back,
sending at the same time a cloud of misty vapor
into the air as its top or dorsal fin appeared.
The photographer saw it in the little window,
and evidently thinking that the whale looked

- I

'4.

I,

V,

p.-

| ,,-,_ ''='-,-,=,j= '.... ^- .

DRAWN BY MEREDITH NUGENT, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY C. F. HOLDER.

A WHALE SWIMMIING AT THE SURFACE OF THE SEA.

VOL. XXIII.-63.

WI,

4r~e

A~.

4., A.

or.r

"A SUDDEN, MIGHTY LEAP." (SEE NEXT PAGE.)

498

''I
` AW4

I

: ?

. 1.

4 ^ ;...,:
***s^

HOW THE WHALE LOOKED PLEASANT.

as pleasant as he in all probability would,
touched the button, and, so far as is known,
took the first photograph of a living whale in the
open ocean, and the very one from which was
made the drawing which appears on page 497.
The Santa Catalina channel is famous for its
whales, and they are frequently seen from the
steamer that plies between the mainland and
the island of Santa Catalina. While I write,
there lies on the beach a huge specimen that
was killed by swordfish. Some terrible contests
have been observed between the great whales
and these ocean swordsmen. One occurred op-
posite the little harbor of Avalon, Santa Cata-
lina, and was watched by a small boat-load of
spectators who drifted near. A swordfish and a

killer or small-toothed whale- attacked the
larger whale from below, and in its rage the
latter appeared almost to stand upon its head,
striking the water fearful blows from side to side
with its tail. For several minutes the battle was
continued, the whale being nearly helpless be-
fore its agile enemies.
On one occasion a whale rose so high above
the water in a sudden, mighty leap, and so
near my boat, that a perfect photograph could
have been taken. As the huge mass loomed
up I thought it was a rock, and turned to the
boatman, meaning to ask an explanation, but
when it fell with a crash I saw that it was a
whale that had thrown itself almost entirely out
of the water.

A "DARE."

By ANTOINETTE GOLAY.

MR. BROWN was frowning at two vacant
chairs opposite him at the dinner-table.
"Are those children late again ? he asked.
"They are, indeed," his wife answered;
"doubtless jumping off the Potters' chicken-
coop this very minute. They can barely wait
to eat their luncheon before they rush off to
that exhilarating sport. You might think they
would have enough of it between two and five,
but it seems they don't. This is the third time
this week Margaret has been late. Cornelia
generally comes home in time, and in tears.
Margaret's shortcomings oppress her."
Margaret told me she and her precious
chum, Mary Potter, were going soon to jump
over all the carriage-steps they could," put in
Fred, who, whatever his other faults might be,
was never known to miss a meal. Perhaps this
is the day, and Cornelia is along to see fair play."
"No," said Mrs. Brown, smiling. "I hardly
think it is that. I have not been able to elevate
their minds above the glory of perching on
sheds; but some days ago I happened to meet
them, Margaret jumping from a stepladder, and
Mary clambering up a fence, and I convinced
them that there was danger in such exploits."
In the mean time," said Mr. Brown, who

had never been able to accept his daughter's
defections as philosophically as did his wife-
"in the mean time those children are likely to
be on any dangerous elevation to be found in
Chicago. Fred, please go to the Potters' and
find out about them. Tell the girls to come
home at once! "
"Yes, sir," said Fred submissively, though in
his heart he preferred a warm dinner then and
there to a half-mile promenade followed by a
lukewarm meal.
He pulled on his cap and sallied forth, whis-
tling to keep up his spirits, while his father, who
was seriously displeased and a little worried, in-
dulged in gloomy reflections on the disadvan-
tages of daughters who were tomboys.
In about half an hour Fred returned, with a
smile lurking about the corner of his mouth.
Father," he said, I found the girls, and
Cornelia will be here as soon as she has bathed
her red and streaming eyes; but I am afraid
you '11 have to go and tell Margaret yourself."
"What do you mean?" his father exclaimed.
" Has anything happened to Margaret ? Why
is Cornelia crying ? "
"She was crying when I found her," Fred
hastened to explain, with a guilty consciousness

your powers of persua-
sion on Margaret ? her
mother inquired.
Cornelia blushed.
"You see, I did not
*-. a wish Margaret to be
Beatenn" she explained.
-*" Really, father," said
. -Fred, "I do believe
you '11 have to go after
ir*pn.-1 Margaret-for, if you
Don't, there's no know-
ing how long she will
stay there. Mary's fa-
ther will not be home
'. till to-morrow, and nei-
S,--' their of the girls will give
in. They were hungry,
too, and a little afraid
of the dark."
"I am ashamed of
Margaret," said Mrs.
Brown penitently, feel-
ing, as mothers will, the
burden of her daughter's
Fault laid upon her own
'- shoulders; "but I am
afraid you'll have to go."
Then, in his turn, Mr.
WANT TO, BUT I CAN'T! Brown left his warm
dinner, and went in
quest of his obstinate daughter. There on the
very ridge of the Harveys' stable shed she sat,
weariness and hunger in her eyes, and fell deter-
mination graven about her mouth as she looked
across at the stolid Mary, who sat a little further
along the ridge, as immovable as a Pyramid.
When she saw her father, poor tired Marga-
ret burst into tears, but in the same breath began
to plead with him.
"Oh, papa," she exclaimed despairingly,
"please don't tell me to come down! I want
to, but I can't; indeed I can't! I said I
would n't, and I 'd never hold up my head
again if I gave in. It's a dare.'"
"Do you actually think of roosting there all
night ? her father asked.
I don't know," said Margaret, weeping yet
more piteously. Maybe I '11 have to. And,
oh, papa, dear! if I do, can't you just stay

OH, PAPA, PLEASE DON'T TELL ME TO COME DOWN! I
IT 'S A DARE.'"

that his presence and poor little Cornelia's tears
too often were closely related. She was wail-
ing, on the ground; and Margaret and Mary
Potter were seated on the roof of the Harveys'
stable-shed. They have been there since four
o'clock, and, for all I can see, are likely to stay
there the rest of their lives."
"It was a 'dare,' papa," said Cornelia, as she
came in and met her father's bewildered ex-
pression. "They went up on the roof, and
Margaret said she would n't come down till
Mary did, and Mary said she would n't, either;
and there they are."
"What folly! said her father impatiently.
"Yes," remarked the ingenuous Cornelia;
" that 's what I told Mary. I just begged her
to come down, and I cried, too, when it began
to grow dark and yet she would n't."
I suppose it did not occur to you to try

A DARE."

[APRIL,

down there to keep my courage up and drive
things away ? I 'm so scared "
"So 'm I," remarked Mary, with contempt,
from her end of the roof. "But you need n't
think, for all that, Margaret Boswell Brown,
that I am going to get down before you do.
Not if I die a Methuselah here!"
Margaret," said her exasperated father, this
is simply ridiculous. I insist that you come
down from that roof. I cannot leave you here
alone, and I do not mean to spend the evening
in Mr. Harvey's back yard, mounting guard over
the two silliest girls I ever saw! "
"Papa," said Margaret solemnly, "if you
don't want to break my heart, don't ask me to
come down first! Oh, can't you think of some
plan?"
Then, looking at the two forlorn little figures,
Mr. Brown was moved to pity, and in a mo-
ment was seized by a sudden inspiration.
Children," he said impressively, "if you
were to come down together and at the same
time, no one's word would be broken, and no
one's pride would be hurt."
The two little girls pondered a moment si-
lently. Then, looking across the roof, they read
consent each in the other's eyes, and slowly be-
gan to crawl down until they reached the edge
of the roof. There they paused.

I

"One!" said Margaret.
"Two!" said Mary.
"Three!" said both, and they dropped to
the ground.
Once there, their dramatic dignity seemed to
Mr. Brown to have departed, and it was with a
strong desire to shake them both that he es-
corted them to their respective homes.
"Mother," said Margaret ruefully, the next
day,-a beautiful bright Saturday, which she
spent in her own room,-" punishments are
strange things, are n't they ? Because I stayed
too long in one place yesterday, and did n't eat
dinner with my family, I have to stay in one
place all to-day, and not eat any of my meals
with the rest of you."
"I think your father has dealt mildly with
you," her mother answered-" when you re-
member that but for his legal mind you and
Mary might both have died Methuselahs on a
shed roof."
Yes," said Margaret, with penitence sudden
and complete. "And indeed I am not going
to be late to dinner again, mother, nor make
three of my family lose their dinner, either.
Only papa says this is for my good; so I hope
it is n't unchristianic of me that I can't seem
to help hoping Mary's father will do as much
for her when he comes back."

THE winter of 1889-90 was one of unusual
severity in Northern California. The moun-
tain regions were visited by fearful snow-storms,
one following quickly upon another. It was
the worst winter for the people of Copper City
that had been known since the town was es-
tablished. Business at the mines had been
duller than usual the previous summer, and
the miners had not been able to lay in a stock
of provisions sufficient to carry them com-
fortably through the season.
Among the unfortunate residents of this belea-
guered town were Mrs. Eugen Laurgaard and
her son Ulvig, an active lad seventeen years old.
Eugen Laurgaard, Ulvig's father, many years
before came from Norway and settled in Min-
nesota, where he entered upon a mercantile
business. He prospered for several years, and
the prospect for Ulvig's future seemed very
bright; but there came some sudden reverses in
his business, and so Mr. Laurgaard found him-
self left with but little besides his health and his
willingness to work hard. He was familiar with
the charming stories of suddenly acquired for-
tunes that came from the mining districts of
California, and, taking his family, he set out for
the land of promise, and at last made his home
in Copper City.
At that time Ulvig was twelve years old.
Three years Mr. Laurgaard prospected among
the mountains with varying success, but the
best he could do was to support his family com-
fortably. One day, while he was digging into
the side of a hill, the earth above him gave
way, and he was killed.
The blow to Ulvig's mother was overwhelm-
ing. She was left penniless in the midst of the
rough people, and the fact that she was a
woman of culture and refinement made her
condition exceedingly trying.
At the time of his father's death, Ulvig was

fifteen years old. Employment was given him
in one of the stores; and his mother, with
the spirit of a true woman, set her face bravely
against her misfortune, and strove to become
self-supporting. It was Ulvig's idea that a
bakery would pay. There had never been a
bakery in the town. The venture was made,
mother and son worked hard, and at first it had
proved successful. The second year, however,
the business did not pay so well. Money grew
scarce, and Mrs. Laurgaard was unable to save
anything. To make matters worse, when win-
ter came Ulvig's employer was obliged to dis-
charge him, as business was too dull to war-
rant him in paying a clerk; and then the boy
could do nothing but assist his mother about
the shop. Ulvig bravely exerted himself to en-
courage his mother. His hope was that when
the next summer came he could find work in
the mines.
A snow-storm had been raging two days.
The mountains were wrapped in a white man-
tle, the branches of the pines and redwoods
were loaded, and snow lay in the cation and
along the trail to a depth of several feet. At
a point down the cation where a projecting
spur of the mountain caused the wind to whirl
and eddy, a great barrier of snow was piled up,
and sloped steeply toward the town in one di-
rection, and toward the mouth of the caton in
another. At either end of this barrier were set
the rocky shoulders of the hills. From the
town, straight down the caton to the railroad,
the distance was about four miles.
On the morning of the third day the storm
ceased. The clouds cleared away, and a cold,
freezing wind set in. In the afternoon Ulvig
was at the store of his former employer, when a
mountaineer came in. He had come down
from the mountains higher up the cation and
beyond the town.

STALLED AT BEAR RUN.

"Tough storm, Greely," said the man, ad-
dressing the merchant.
Worst for years," replied Greely. "How 'd
you ever live, Collins, to get down here ? "
Did n't want to stay in camp and starve,"
answered Collins. "Another storm like this
would have buried me alive up there. 'T was
hard work facin' this wind, but I made out to
git here. I would n't have got here, though, if
it had n't been for these snow-shoes."
"This is a bad one for the railroad people,"
said the merchant.
"Bad?-yes! said Collins; there 's a train
stalled down in Bear Run, now. It seemed to
be completely locked in-can't go forrud nor
backward. There were two big drifts across
the Run, and the train was between them.
They won't git out in one week, unless I 'm
mightily mistaken. They 're in a bad place;
an' those snow-plows that they brag so much
about can't shovel their way to them in less
time than that."
"They stand a chance of running' short of
victuals, don't they ? asked Greely.
"Yes; and a mighty good chance, too," an-
swered Collins. "You know they don't run a
dinin'-car now on this part of the road."
"What 'll they do ? asked Greely.
That 's a question," replied Collins.
The question that apparently puzzled the
merchant and the mountaineer Ulvig decided
to answer in a practical way. He hurried
home and told his mother what he had heard
at the store.
Now," said he, I 'm going to earn some
money. You make up a lot of sandwiches and
cakes, mother, and I will take them to the train.
The passengers will pay me well for them."
How will you cross the drift in the canon,
Ulvig ?" asked his mother.
"The skees will take me safely over it," an-
swered the boy. "I '11 make a drag, get the
skees into shape, and help pack the food in the
baskets."
Ulvig's father had told him a great deal
about the customs of the people in his native
country. As soon as he was strong enough he
was taught to travel over the snow on skees -
long, flat, narrow strips of wood, turned up at
one end, and very smooth on the bottom.

These long runners are fastened to the travel-
er's feet with straps, and, moving somewhat as
if he were skating, he is able to make very rapid
progress over snow.
Ulvig set about polishing the bottom of his
skees, which had not been used for manymonths,
strengthened the straps, and made sure that
they were in perfect working order. He made
a drag by fastening two wide boards together,
side by side, and bending the ends up slightly
so that they would not dig into the snow. In
appearance it resembled a hastily made tobog-
gan.
All night Mrs. Laurgaard and her son la-
bored, and in the morning the baskets were
packed and ready to be loaded upon the drag.
When the boy had tied them firmly on the
drag, fastened the skees to his feet, and was
ready to start, a crowd gathered around him.
He made the purpose of his undertaking known,
and the shouts and cheers that followed him as
he glided down the cafion proved his popu-
larity. Ulvig soon reached the top of the great
drift across the cafion, and, after tightening the
straps on his feet, started down the declivity.
Bear Run is a deep cut among the foot-
hills opposite the mouth of the cation, and
running at right angles with it. On the west
side of the cut the hills rise steep and high.
On the east side the elevation is lower, so
that from the mouth of the cation the train
was in plain view.
When Ulvig shot out from between the jaws
of the caion, the train lay less than a mile away.
The huge locomotive, muffled with an iron vizor
to the top of the smoke-stack, stood with its
nose set doggedly against a vast bank of snow.
Ulvig soon reached the train, and as he neared
it he was hailed by the conductor and one of
the passengers, who came out of the cars, and
stood on the platform.
What do you want ? said the conductor.
Ulvig quickly made his business known.
The conductor eyed him sharply for a few mo-
ments, then, telling him to stay where he was,
turned and reEntered the car. Ulvig's heart
sank. What if he was not allowed to offer the
food for sale on the train ? He thought of his
mother's disappointment. While the boy was
trying to decide what he should do, the con-

503

STALLED AT BEAR RUN.

ductor reappeared, accompanied by a dapper,
sharp-eyed little man.
Here he is, Jim," said the conductor.
"See what you can do with him."
The man with the sharp eyes scanned Ulvig's
face narrowly. Come to sell food to the pas-
sengers, eh ? he finally asked.
Yes, sir," replied Ulvig.
"Where is it ? "
Ulvig hauled the drag near the steps so that
the man could examine the contents of the bas-
kets. He sampled the sandwiches and the
cakes, then held a whispered consultation with
the conductor. Finally he turned to Ulvig
and said: I '11 pay you twenty dollars for that
lot of stuff; and, if you want to, you may bring
me another batch just like it, to-morrow morn-
ing, at the same price."
Ulvig felt as if his heart was about to jump
out of his mouth. Twenty dollars was double
the sum that he had expected to get for the
food, and he promptly accepted the offer. A
half-hour later the dapper man with the sharp
eyes was dealing the sandwiches and cakes
out to hungry passengers at twenty-five cents
apiece; and when a passenger grumbled at the
price, the little man smiled sympathetically,
and told him that the nearest eating-station
was twenty miles away, and the prospect of
the train reaching it before the spring thaw
set in was not encouraging.
Each cake was neatly wrapped in thin paper,
upon which were printed in plain type, run-
ning across the top of the package, the words,
" Laurgaard Bakery." It was these words
that seemed to have a great interest for two
passengers who were comfortably quartered in
one of the sleeping-coaches. One of these
passengers was a pleasant-faced woman; the
other a stalwart, middle-aged man. The man
held up one of the cakes so that the printing
could be seen by his wife.
"There it is, Ing6," he said; as plain as
day L-a-u-r-g-a-a-r-d."
He arose, and following the vender of the
cakes and sandwiches into the next car, asked
him if he was acquainted with the proprietors
of the Laurgaard bakery.
Don't know anything about 'em," was the
answer, in a voice that was not encouraging.

"Where did you get this ? asked the man.
Delivered here at the train this morning."
Will the person be here again ? "
I expect him to-morrow morning."
Returning to his seat, the man unwrapped
the cake, carefully folded the paper, and put it
in his pocket.
The hours passed slowly to the snow-bound
passengers. Various ways of occupying the time
pleasantly were devised, but the novelty of the
situation soon wore off, and everybody seemed
glad when the hour came for sleeping.
The occupants of the train had been asleep
several hours, when they were awakened by a
roaring; then there was a terrible crashing
against the sides of the cars, that trembled as
if shaken by an earthquake; a rushing sound;
then all was still. The startled passengers could
sleep no more, and their alarm was increased
when the conductor finally passed through the
cars, announcing as he went that the train had
been buried in a snowslide.
When morning broke, it was discovered that
there were two coaches the tops of which were
not covered. Light and air were admitted
through the small glass ventilators at the top.
There was no immediate danger of suffocation,
for the train was made up of vestibule-cars, and
with the doors thrown open, the train was like
one long, narrow apartment. But since the
locomotive was buried, and no fires could be
kept up in it, the cars were soon cold, and the
passengers became uncomfortable.
When, that morning, Ulvig came out of the
canyon with his baskets once more filled with
sandwiches and cakes, he could hardly believe
his eyes as he looked toward Bear Run, where
the train had stood the day before. No train
was to be seen! But he caught sight of two
straight dark lines projecting above the drifts.
He studied them closely for a few moments,
and made them out to be the roofs of the cars.
It suddenly flashed upon him that the train had
been buried in a snowslide.
Quickly removing the baskets from the drag,
the boy turned and hurried back to the town.
He told the story of the buried train at the
stores, and fifty men volunteered to go to the
assistance of the passengers. How they were
to get there was the question that puzzled them.

[APRIL,

STALLED AT BEAR RUN.

This was quickly answered by Ulvig, who
proposed to take them over the drift on the
drag.
The boy worked like a Trojan, and by the
middle of the afternoon twenty-five men were
working diligently with shovels around the
train. It was midnight when the broad cut
through the great mass of snow was completed
to the baggage-car. Then the engine was un-
covered, the fires started, and in a short time
steam was running through the pipes, and the
coaches became warm and comfortable.
While Ulvig stood in the midst of a group of
passengers, the stalwart man who had mani-
fested so deep an interest in the paper wrapped
around the cake approached and asked if his
name was Laurgaard.
Ulvig replied that it was.
"I should like to speak with you," said the
man.
Ulvig followed the stranger into the sleeping-
car. "Your father is proprietor of this estab-
lishment, I presume? said he, stopping near the
seat in which the pleasant-faced woman sat,
and taking the folded paper from his pocket.
No, sir," said Ulvig; "my father is dead."
"Dead !" exclaimed the woman. "What
was his full name ? "
"Eugen Laurgaard," replied Ulvig.
"How far is it to the town where you live ? "
asked the man.
"About four miles."
"Can my wife and I get there ?"
If you care to go, I will take you in the
morning on the drag. The only way we can
travel up the cation now is on skees."
Skees ? exclaimed the man, enthusiastically.
"Ah, I see! your father taught you the use of
them. I should like to try them once more
myself. We will visit the town in the morn-
ing, Ing6, and you and this young man shall
be the passengers."
"Yes, Alfred," said the woman. I must
see Mrs. Laurgaard."
In the morning, while the men from Copper
City continued the work of excavating the
train, Ulvig was sent to the town for provisions.
The man with the broad shoulders placed
his wife on the drag, in the midst of a pile
of wraps, and insisted that Ulvig should ride
VOL. XXIII.-64.

too; then, fastening the skees to his feet, he set
out across the snow at a pace that astonished
the boy.
As they sped over the snow, Ulvig won-
dered why the woman had taken such an in-
terest in his mother.
The residents of Copper City, who saw the
tall, strong-limbed stranger glide through the
town on the skees and stop at the door of
the Laurgaard bakery, were astonished. Theirs
was no greater, however, than the astonishment
of Mrs. Laurgaard, who stood at a window
anxiously watching for Ulvig, for his long ab-
sence had caused her some distress.
The strangers followed Ulvig into the shop.
Without ceremony the woman stepped up to.
Mrs. Laurgaard, looked at her closely, and then
embraced her affectionately.
"Yes, Alfred, it is she! cried the woman,
as he entered; "my brother is dead, but I have
found his wife."
He embraced his wife and kissed her, and
the next instant Ulvig's mother was greeted
with warm affection. The boy was puzzled,
but when the woman placed her hand on his
shoulder, and, fixing her eyes on his face, said,
" How like your father as I remember him years
ago! I am proud of my nephew, but your name
should be Eugen," he knew that she was the
aunt of whom his father had often spoken.
Ten days later, the snow-bound train was re-
leased by snow-plows, and when it proceeded
southward it carried two more passengers than
it brought, for Mrs. Laurgaard and her son had
gone with their new-found relatives.
That evening the mountaineer, enjoying his
pipe by the stove in Mr. Greely's store, said:
" I hear that the widow Laurgaard and her boy
have gone east."
"Yes," replied Mr. Greely. Eugen's sister,
who 's the wife of a rich merchant in Boston,
accidentally found them and took them back
to live with her. It seems that she had heard
nothing from her brother for many years. If it
had n't been for that blockade in the Run, she
might never have found his family. It seems
that she and her husband were out on a trip for
her health, and the name on a paper wrapped
around a cake that Ulvig sold on the train
gave her the clue. Queer thing, was n't it ? "

1896.]

505

LITTLE

TOMNMY5

,MONDAY

MORNING.

(In a meter neither new nor difficult.)

BY TUDOR JENKS.

ALL was well on Sunday morning,
All was quiet Sunday evening;
But behold, quite early Monday
Came a queer, surprising
Weakness- '
Weakness seizing little .
Tommy!
It came shortly after break-
fast-
Breakfast with wheat-cakes
and honey
Eagerly devoured by
Tommy,
Who till then was well
as could be.
Then, without a mo-
ment's warning,
Like a sneeze, that
awful Aw-choo i
Came this Weakness
on poor Tommy.
Mother, dear," he
whined, dear
mother,
I am feeling rather strangely-
Don't know what 's the matter with me--
My right leg is
out of kilter,
While my ear -
my left ear -
itches.
---_ Don't you know
S Y. that queerish
feeling? "
" Not exactly," said his mother.
" Does your head ache, Tommy dearest?"

Little Thomas, al- --..
ways truthful, -' *
Would not say his .
head was aching, S
For, you know, it "
really was n't.
"No, it does n't '- ,-- .
ache," he an-
swered
(Thinking of that noble story
Of the Cherry-tree and
S Hatchet);
"But I 'm tired, and I 'm
sleepy,
And my shoulder 's
rather achy.
Don't you think per-
haps I 'd better
Stay at home with you,
dear mother ?"

Thoughtfully his mo-
their questioned,
How about your school,
dear Tommy?
Do you wish to miss your lessons?"
"Well, you know," was Tommy's answer,
"Saturday we played at foot-ball;
I was tired in the evening,
So I did n't learn my lessons -
Left them all for Monday morning,
Monday morning bright and early-"
"And this morning you slept over ? "
So his mother interrupted.
"Yes, mama," admitted Tommy.
"So I have not learned my lessons;

LITTLE TOMMY'S MONDAY MORNING.

And I 'd better wait till Tuesday.
Tuesday I can start in earnest--
Tuesday when I 'm feeling brighter!"

Smilingly his mother eyed him,
Then she said, Go ask your father-
You will find him in his study,
Adding up the week's expenses.
See what father says about it."

Toward the door went Tommy slowly, :
Seized the knob as if to turn it.
Did not turn it; but, returning,
Back he came unto his mother.
"Mother," said he, very slowly,
"Mother, I don't feel so badly;
Maybe I '11 get through my
lessons.
X9 Anyway, I think I '11 risk it.
S Have you seen my books,
dear mother,-
My Geography and Speller,
History and Definitions,-
Since I brought them home
..1. on Friday?"
No. His mother had not
seen them.
Then began a search by
Tommy.
Long he searched, almost
despairing,
While the clock was striking loudly.
And at length when Tommy found them-
Found his books beneath the sofa--
He 'd forgotten all his Weakness,

Pains and aches
were quite for-
gotten.

At full speed he .,, ;,
hastened school- '; '
ward. -
But in vain, for
he was tardy,
All because of that
strange Weakness
He had felt on Monday morning.

Would you know the
". name that 's given,
G' How they call
A that curious
feeling ?
'T is the dreaded
1"Idon'twant-
to "-
Never fatal, but
Quite common
S -- To the tribe of
Verylazy.
Would you know
the charm that
cures it -
Cures the Weakness "Idon'twantto ".?
It is known as Butyou'vegotto,"
And no boy should be without it.

Now you know the curious legend
Of the paleface little Tommy,
Of his Weakness and its curing
By the great charm Butyou'vegotto."
Think of it on Monday mornings-
It will save you lots of trouble.

i I

\ .- --. --

-~ -------- -

SG. T. FERRIS. --'

BY G. T. FERRIS.

BEFORE the next issue of ST. NICHOLAS
reaches its readers, the world will have wit-
nessed at Athens, the capital of the Greek na-
tion, a curious and interesting spectacle. Greeks
and strangers will assemble to witness athletic
games in which strong men from all nations will
compete for the crown of victory.
The revival of these games will surely interest
the older boys and girls who read ST. NICHOLAS,
and for them particularly this paper has been
prepared.
These closing ten years of the nineteenth
century may be called the period of interna-
tional games. If the Greek gymnastic festival
of April, 1896, signified no more than a series of
games offering the hospitality of the country,
over which the glamour of a glorious past lingers
like a rich sunset, it would be a notable event.
But it is more than this-far more. The en-
terprise revives the memory and spirit of an in-
stitution which shed a peculiar luster on the
history of classic Greece. It entered into the
life of the ancient Greek to an extent which we
of to-day can scarcely realize. It was associ-
ated with his religion, his civic pride, his ideals
of art, and his highest patriotism. This institu-
tion was the Olympic festival, celebrated every
four years at Olympia, on the river Alpheus,
near the borders of Elis and Pisa, and so kept
up for more than a thousand years. There
were other national games of a similar sort -
such as the Pythian, the Nemean, and the Isth-
mian games; but these, though highly regarded,
were of far less dignity and interest. When
one speaks, then, of the Olympic games there

arises in the mind a picture of those vast gath-
erings where all Greece, though to the very time
divided by civil wars, remembered for a brief
period that its borders bounded one people a
people of one blood, one glory, and one destiny.
The hold of the Olympic festival on the ancient
Hellenic world is seen in the fact that from 776
B. c. time was measured by Olympiads," or
the four-year intervals between the games.
The remote origin of this festival is hidden
in myths, as is the case with so many customs
of the classic ages. In general, all these le-
gends ascribe the games to the demigod Her-
cules as founder. Sufficient time had passed for
the early form of this festival to have gone into
decay, before it was revived and had a historic
beginning. This occurred under the patronage
of Iphitus, king of Elis, and Lycurgus the cele-
brated lawgiver of the Spartan commonwealth.
It is fixed at or about 884 B. c. This revival
soon lighted a living spark which fired Greek
blood everywhere, and in less than half a cen-
tury the festival became national in character.
Only contestants of pure Hellenic blood were
allowed to enter their names. As time rolled
on, and the Greeks (who were, you know, great
sailors and merchants) pushed their maritime
enterprises, and established colonies throughout
the whole length and breadth of the Mediter-
ranean, children of the greater Greece, every-
where from the distant borders of Persia to
where the city of Marseilles now stands, assem-
bled to struggle for the prize wreath. The in-
terest of the Greek race in these games became
a passion. To win a victory in any of the con-

THE OLYMPIAN GAMES.

tests reflected as much glory on the athlete and
on his community as if he had been the suc-
cessful general in a great battle. His name
was added to the brazen tablets recording the
celebrities and benefactors of his native town.
If he died on this field of honor,- as was often
the case, even in the flush of victory,--he be-
came almost an idol in the public esteem, and
his family was ennobled and enriched by pub-
lic decree.
The Olympic festival, the details of which by
common Greek consent were in charge of the
Eleans, was supposed to be under the direct
care of Olympian Zeus, the father of the gods,
and the locality where the sports were held was
sacred ground. Olympia was scarcely a town;
it was rather a collection of temples and public
buildings exhibiting the noblest art of Greece
in sculpture, painting, and architecture. The
recent excavations made by the Greek and
Italian governments (1875-81) have made clear
to us the plan of the place, and uncovered
many interesting relics of ancient art. The
quadrangle called the Altis was peculiarly sa-
cred; and here stood the temples of Zeus and
of Hera his wife, and of other deities, with the
treasure-houses of many of the Greek states.
In the midst was the high altar of the father of
the gods, and near by the colossal statue of him,
made of gold and ivory by Phidias, the greatest
of sculptors,- a work considered one of the
seven wonders of the world. Athens itself
scarcely contained greater marvels of art than
Olympia, for all the skill and pride of the Greek
race lent themselves to making the site worthy
of the national importance of the festival.
The date of the celebrations was from the
ijth to the 15th of the month of the first full
moon after the summer solstice, and preparation
in the training of athletes began ten months be-
fore throughout the whole of Greece. Some of
those were selected as representatives of states,
but any free-born Greek could enter for himself.
Universal peace during the month of the games
was proclaimed by heralds in every part of
Hellas, and the slightest breaking of the sacred
truce was thought sacrilege, which deities and
men alike were bound to punish. The judges
of the games, or Hellanodicme," ranging from
nine to twelve in number at different times, were

elected by the Eleans. All who wished to be
judges were required to show not only that
they had never committed a crime, public or
private, but that they were stainless in moral
character. Not unfrequently even men of dis-
tinction were excluded by this severe test dur-
ing the golden age of Hellenic honor.
The different combats consisted of leaping,
the foot-race, wrestling, throwing the discus
(like the modern putting the shot"), box-
ing, the pancratium, the pentathlum, chariot-
racing, horse-racing, and the contests of the
heralds and trumpeters. Most of these were
more or less varied. The foot-races were for
different distances, and one of them, that of
the hoplites, or heavy-armed soldiers, was run
in full battle armor. In boxing, the fists of
the contestants were wrapped in the terrible
cestus, a glove of hide loaded with metal,
and its blow was often fatal. The pancratium
united wrestling and boxing, but without the
use of the cestus. The pentathlum was a
group of five contests: leaping, the foot-race,
throwing the quoit or discus, throwing the spear,
and wrestling. The prize-winner must excel in
all. Chariot-racing was with two and four horses,
or even with mules; and the running horse-
races corresponded very closely with those of
modern times. Boys of from fourteen to eigh-
teen also had contests, in all respects like those
of adults, except that the boys did not use the
cestus. In some cases competitors still within
the boyish limit were permitted to do battle
with their elders; and these youngsters occasion-
ally secured the crown, even in the severer
contests of skill and strength.
Greek boys began to be trained in bodily exer-
cises at a very early age -often at ten years.
The problem was not merely to develop
strength and health, but to secure grace and
beauty, perfect beauty being thought the outer
expression of perfect strength. It was this pas-
sion for the beautiful, in every phase of Greek
life, which made its sculpture and architecture
the noblest the world has seen. But the thought
had a still deeper root. The Greek assumed
that it was only in the perfect and symmetrical
body that the well-balanced mind could dwell;
so physical culture held a foremost place in his
plan of education, and the daily toils of the

509

THE OLYMPIAN GAMES.

palestra (or wrestling-field) and the gymnasium
were a part of the life of the growing lad, and
a part not to be shirked. The part taken by
boys in the Olympic games shows how deeply
this festival had taken root in Greek thought
and life.
The diggings at Olyinpia have revealed an
amphitheater 234 yards in length by 35 in
width, oblong in shape, with sloping banks.
This inclosed a stadium, or foot-race course,
of 200 yards in length of circuit; and within its
oval were held other games, but not the horse-
and chariot-races. There are no signs of seats,
and the spectators must have viewed the games
from the grassy terraces above, where there was
room for a multitude of 50,000. The hippo-
drome, of which only faint traces have been
found, was laid out only a little way from this
stadium. Here was heard the stirring music of
that rhythmical hoof-beat so well reproduced
alike in sound and sense in the beautiful Virgil-
ian line which so many boys have at their
tongue's end:
Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum.

Which is thus imitated in English, "And the
base hoof of the quadruped shaketh the moul-
dering earth in its flight."
The chariot-races, like those of the Roman
circus, imitated from the Greek, were of striking
interest. There was scarcely any honor of the
games more glorious than the charioteer's vic-
tory, especially if the owner drove his own
horses. The danger to life and limb undergone
by the charioteer was not less than that risked
by the athlete in boxing with the cestus, or in
the pancratium. The vivid chapter in Ben
Hur" depicting the chances and perils of a
chariot-race essentially the same as that of the
Olympic games gives an excellent notion of
such a contest.
The games of the stadium were of course
open to all, from the wearer of the purple cloak
to him of the sheepskin jacket; and in many
instances the free-born peasant wrested the
coveted prize from his rich rival. In the horse-
racing, however, the wealthy alone were repre-
sented, though they did not always drive their
own chariots or ride their own horses. From
all parts of the Greek-speaking world, when

the Olympic festival reached its full splendor,
princes, nobles, and rich citizens sent teams of
untold value to compete. Even women, who
were not permitted to be present in person,
were often represented by race-horses, which
were sometimes the first to reach the goal-pillars.
About the first of the Olympic month war and
battle-sound ceased throughout the length and
breadth of Hellas. The distant roads which led
to Olympia were thronged with pilgrims bound
on a journey almost as sacred as that of the
pilgrimage to Mecca by the devout Moham-
medan. As the distance lessened and the time
neared, the travelers became more numerous,
and it seemed as if Greece despatched all her
bravest and strongest and noblest sons into
these converging currents. On horseback and
muleback, on foot and in litter, some carrying
their simple luggage upon their backs, some
with elaborate wagons containing splendid
camp equipage and the richest wines and food
guarded by a retinue of servants, they choked
each route with an army of teeming life. The
five festival days were a great national picnic,
where almost everything was enjoyed in the
open air under a glorious midsummer sky. A
few of the distinguished visitors were cared for
in the temples; but a majority, even of the
wealthy, chose the free life of their own tents.
The daily scene, one can fancy, was rich with
life and pictorial effect. One of the fairest of
Greek valleys, with snow-crowned heights in the
background, its own bosom crowned with the
white-pillared beauty of a hundred temples and
public edifices, is filled with thousands of tents
of every color, like gigantic flowers. During
the hours when the visitors do not resort to the
stadium to thrill with the terrible struggles of
the runners or wrestlers or boxers, or to watch
the smoking horses in the hippodrome, they may
amuse themselves at the booths of the traders
and chapmen. For from all parts of the civilized
world merchants have gathered to sell their
wares, ranging from the rarest jewels and most
elaborate goldsmith work to simple articles of
daily use.
Olympia was indeed the arena of the greatest
public games of antiquity, for we can scarcely
call by this name the cruelties of the Roman
amphitheater; but it was also the site of one

[APRIL,

THE OLYMPIAN GAMES.

GREEK YOUTHS ON HORSEBACK. SCULPTURES FROM THE PARTHENON.

of its busy and active fairs, a "national exposi-
tion" under canvas, every four years.
Mental enjoyment of the higher sort was not
missing from the entertainment. The leading
tragedies were represented in one of the finest
theaters of Greece. Poets and historians came
here also to recite their new works, and so to
publish their fame to the world. It is said that
many of the stirring odes of Pindar were made
public in this way, and that Herodotus, the
father of history, first read his delightful story
before the audience at an Olympic festival.
The modern Greek has shown a desire to
preserve, as well as he can under new con-
ditions, the traditions of his ancient people.
He speaks more nearly than any other nation
the language of his past, for modern Greek
is one with the classic tongue. Demosthenes
risen from the dust could easily be understood
by a modern Athenian mob. Some have joked
at the attempts of the Hellene of to-day to re-
vive the outer shell of the old life, calling it
"'pedantry." Yet there is something beautiful
about the effort, however absurd in some of its
forms. But if there have been follies, the pro-
posed revival of the Olympic games is not
among them; for it is the purpose of the new
Olympic festival to assemble in brotherly com-
bat not Greeks only, but the chosen athletes of
all the peoples to whom old Greece has left so
rich a legacy. And no nation of to-day, from
the Mediterranean to this new empire across
the Atlantic, when it takes account of its true
wealth, will undervalue what it has acquired
from the land of Homer, Phidias, and Pericles.
When the revival was first proposed, more
than two years ago, Greeks of every class joy-
fully responded, though the suggestion came
from France. It was clearly out of the ques-
tion, for practical reasons, to locate the games
at the old, and new-found, Olympia. Equally
impossible was an exact revival of the old festi-

val. In detail the ancient games befitted the
life long since passed away. The proper site
was found in Athens, the metropolis and lead-
ing railway, center of modem Greece. The
Piraeus, only five miles from the city, opens
on the blue waters of the Saronic Gulf and
the islanded beauty of the iEgean Sea. Yachts,
traversing a long course here, would cut the
same waves which witnessed one of the world's
greatest naval battles off the promontory of
Salamis.
To give the project any hope of success it
was seen that the games must be modern in
character, such as can be sensibly held at vari-
ous cities in other parts of the world in time
to come. Jerseys, knickerbockers, and modern
running-shoes must replace the trained muscles,
glistening with oil, which once delighted the
beauty-loving Greeks. The blows of the iron-
clad cestus; the firm lock of the wrestlers, with
its trick of hurling over the hip, which meant
broken bones to the vanquished; the complex
combats, taxing the last reserve of skill, auda-
city, and strength; the wild drive of the chariots,
with the inevitable crash in jockeying for the
wall, and shortening the curve at the corner
pillars--these things will no longer darken the
Olympic spectacle with the shadow of tragedy.
But in short- and long-distance running, jump-
ing, leaping, throwing the discus or quoit, and
the running races of horses ridden by gentle-
man-riders, there will be a close likeness to the
old games. To these the schedule adds most
of the standard forms of modern athletic con-
tests.
The principal part of the festival will be at
the ancient stadium on the Athenian plain near
the city. Here were once celebrated the games
of Attica and her allies. A wild waste for
many centuries, it was excavated a few years
ago by King George of Greece. Now it has
been restored in detail for this occasion by the

THE OLYMPIAN GAMES.

generosity of Georgius Av6roff, a rich Greek of
Alexandria, Egypt, at an expense of 600,000
francs, so it will appear in its old splendor of
white marble. The amphitheater seats from
50,000 to 70,000 spectators, and incloses a
course 670 feet in length by 1o9 feet in breadth,
giving a level area of 8100 square yards for the
gymnastic and field sports, with a broad foot-
race track as well.
One of the most interesting features of the
games will be the long-distance race of twenty
miles, from Marathon to Athens, in memory of
the brave courier who died of exhaustion after
he had brought tidings of Miltiades's great
victory over Darius. To the victor, M. Victor
Brial of the French Institute has offered the
prize of a silver amphora or wine-vessel. The
general prize of each contest is a silver olive
wreath, to commemorate the simple wreath of
wild olive that in ancient times was the only
token of victory.
In addition to the athletic games and field-
sports it is proposed also to represent an ancient
drama in some well-preserved classic Greek
theater. The dances of to-day, believed by
many scholars to be relics of the classic age,
will be rendered by peasant dancers in costume;
and various musical societies will furnish the
music for the festival.
For the inauguration the date of April 6 has
been selected, as it is the seventy-fifth anni-
versary of Greek independence. The middle
month of spring, too, is the most delightful
in the Greek year-much like the American
June. The Athenians have completed exten-

sive preparations for making the modern revival
worthy of the ancient fame of the Olympic
games, and for the entertainment of visitors.
It is pleasant to note that the first to send a
contribution to the Festival Committee was Mr.
Alexander, the United States Minister to Greece,
who is known to be an enthusiast in Hellenic
studies.
Literature, art, and commerce, steam and
electricity- these have knit the world closer.
But the powers which repel nations from each
other are not less than those which make for
friendship. Wars and rumors of wars have cast
their gloom over our waning century. Scarcely
a month passes without another threat of a
clash of arms. Any new influence which may
lessen the jealousy of nations, with their millions
of soldiers ready to fall into line of battle, is to
be cherished.
The so-called revival of the Olympic games
suggests a promise bigger and fairer than any-
thing we have practised as international sport.
The tradition of the old Greek festival has lived
through more than twenty centuries. More
than almost any other classic event it is armed
with magic to kindle the fancy of a later time.
It can touch the men of to-day with the deep
sense of human brotherhood, and the projectors
of the revival have embodied this thought in elo-
quent words. Once more the world has heard
from the top of the Hill of Mars the swelling
note of the apostle Paul in praise of the Un-
known God," who hath made of one blood
all nations of men for to dwell on all the face
of the earth."

* ---C

irn er El ~9

l -11r;a II] CLlton .
;- L ..-..., < 3--

'TEN valiant knights of old are we!
S-Ten famous knights from Araby!
We 've traveled over land and sea,
To tilt with all who '11 meet us!

Ten noble knights armed cap-a-pie, But when we joust in double line,
Whose figured shields, full artfully, Where ranks reversed are led by "nine,"
Betoken titles all may see If you subtract you '11 soon divine
Who ride in haste to greet us! It 's difficult to beat us!

The heralds sound a challenge gay: --- For forty-five is minuend,
"Who '11 dare to meet us in the fray ? -. And forty-five is subt
And add us up, with- hend,
out delay;- 'And forty-five stan
Ithe ;: \~;% How can you n
defeat us ?

T ', 1 0 -

_, 0 q i 1 ,'t tU 1 0 8 1=1

5
t -- "._: t .. at -' -

a-

.ds

3W

VOL. XXIII.-65.

THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.

(A Story of the Year 30 A. D.)

By WILLIAM O. STODDARD.

[Begun in the November number. ]

CHAPTER XII.

THE HEALING OF THE LEPER.

ALL over the world, in those days, there was a
strong belief that some being was to come and
bring with him a great change for good. The
Jews especially believed this, because it was
prophesied in their scriptures. They expected
a king descended from David,-" the Mes-
siah,"-who would not only restore the kingdom
ruled by David, but add to it all other kingdoms,
so that the Jews would rule the world. All that
was said about the Messiah, the Christ," how-
ever, made it plain that the Jews had formed
positive ideas as to what he would be and what
he would do, and therefore they were prepared
to oppose the adherents of one who did not ful-
fil their expectations. Cyril was like the rest:
the kingdom he hoped for was one which
would require grand palaces, strong castles,
great armies, and more splendor than that of
Herod or even of the Emperor of Rome. He
and Lois were aware that they were growing
older, and able to share in the prosperity of
their people, and they both were glad of this.
Lois feared that her brother, though so strong
and energetic, was growing almost too fast;
but he was so erect and soldierly, she thought,
and he was nobler, finer-looking, than the other
youths along the lake-shore. Not one of them
could overcome him in their wrestling games,
and he surpassed them all in other trials of
strength and skill.
His only dream," she said to herself, is one
day to be a captain in the army of our King."
Tidings came at last that Jesus was once
more drawing nearer to Capernaum, teaching
and healing as he came. He was soon reported

to be among the neighboring villages, and
Cyril said to Lois: "I am going to find
him."
So it came to pass that, one sunny morning,
Lois stood and looked lovingly, proudly, after
her brother, as he set forth to seek the Master.
I wish I could go with him! she thought.
"But Cyril will return and tell all he has seen."
We know now," Cyril was thinking as he
went his way, "the wonderful things the Mas-
ter can do. He has cured the sick everywhere.
And why can he not bring back the greatness
of our nation ? "
He was in a discontented state of mind, and
he walked rapidly. As he went along the road,
he suddenly heard a strange cry, and exclaimed:
"Poor creature I must not come too near him!"
Upon the cool breeze was borne that cry so
mournful, so forlorn, that it might have touched
a harder heart than Cyril's.
"Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" It was
the warning shout of a leper, one of the vic-
tims of the most terrible of all diseases. This
poor outcast could hardly walk, and he was
evidently making a desperate effort. Indeed,
only the strength of despair forced him along
the road.
Cyril shuddered, glancing in the sufferer's
face, and, as the poor man passed, he said to him-
self: A leper ? Could the Master cure him ? "
If there were any limit to the healing power,
it might well be found here. Cyril could already
see the throng at the wayside, gathered around
the Master, and he said, "The leper is seeking
him! "
Could it be that the outcast himself had any
hope, any expectation of aid ?
With every moment Cyril found his interest
in the unfortunate man increasing. It was ter-
rible to think that nothing could be done; that

THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.

he would have to withdraw himself from the
crowd, as the law required.
Now the prophet of Nazareth, as many called
him, was standing in the shade of a tree at the
roadside, and the crowd pressed about him.
John was there, and James, with Simon, and
others whom Cyril knew; but what surprised
Cyril was to see, just behind the tall form of
Simon, the dignified rabbi, Isaac Ben Nassur.
He had come, indeed, all the way from Cana,
to continue his duty as a rabbi, and a keeper of
the public conscience concerning any new doc-
trine. He had probably just arrived, for there
was no dust upon him, nor any other sign that
he had come with that throng of wayfarers.
"Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" There
was now an appeal in the leper's warning.
He may have feared some hand of local au-
thority forbidding him to come nearer. Those
near him, indeed, did shrink away, as he came
hurrying forward, for he was an object to cause
repulsion. Still, even while withdrawing, the
crowd made way for him, and the leper fell upon
his knees at the feet of the Master, breathlessly
looking up into the face of the man of Nazareth.
Cyril saw that John and Simon and Ben
Nassur and the rest were crowding forward.
Then came the pitiful appeal from the lips
of the kneeling leper, Lord, if thou wilt, thou
canst make me clean."
They saw the Master's hand go out to touch
the poor suppliant, and then the gentle voice
spoke: I will; be thou clean."
Breathless expectation made an oppressive
stillness that was quickly broken by a smothered
exclamation from the lips of Isaac Ben Nassur:
"It is indeed a miracle he muttered. He
is made clean! "
Cyril gazed in wonder, for swift indeed was
the change which came upon the face that
made him shudder when he passed it on the
road. It was as if new blood began to course
through every vein of the kneeling man, as if
a fountain of new life had been opened in him
to send its healing forces through every nerve
and fiber. For one moment only he continued
kneeling, in a glad, half-doubtful astonishment,
and then he slowly arose.
And now the Master said solemnly to the man
whom he had healed: See thou say nothing

to any man; but go thy way, show thyself to
the priest, and offer for thy cleansing those things
which Moses commanded, for a testimony unto
them."
"That is right," muttered Ben Nassur, ap-
provingly. "He is truly a rabbi. He is zeal-
ous for the Law. It is safe for the people to
follow him."
"But the healing cannot be kept secret.
Everybody saw it done," thought Cyril, as he
looked again into the now bright, joyous face
of the healed man, who was gazing in speechless
gratitude upon that of the Master.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SICK OF THE PALSY.

THE healing of the leper was soon told to
the people of Capernaum. The report went
abroad also to other communities, and many
of the Master's teachings went with it.
When, a few days later, the Master came to
Capernaum, it seemed that all the people came
swarming around the house of Simon, where he
was staying. John and Andrew and the other
disciples were with him, and so was Isaac Ben
Nassur. Lois was yet in the house when the
Master came.
Cyril remained outside among the throng,
which was now so dense that it was impossible
for any more to get into the house. The words
of the Teacher, however, could often be heard
from outside.
From another corner of the little city there
had arrived four men bearing a litter, or ham-
mock, wherein lay a man who seemed beyond
all aid. He was more helpless than the leper,
for this man could move neither hand nor foot.
Still it was firmly the conviction of Cyril, as
well as of the palsied man's carriers, that if the
Master could touch him he would be helped.
The men seemed puzzled by the crowd, but
after some consultation they advanced toward
the house.
"They are going to let him down through
the roof. I can help! exclaimed Cyril.
They could not have done so if the house
had been a well-built, massive two-story struc-
ture, like that of Ben Nassur at Cana. There

THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.

were few such in Capernaum, however, and
that of Simon was like most of the other dwell-
ings, of only one story, with a slight roof, a
wooden framework plastered with mortar, and
covered thinly with earth and tiling.
The friends of the sufferer were strong and
zealous, and no man
hindered them. They
hoisted the hammock,
and long cords were
tied to its four cor-
ners. Afewminutesof
work with trowel and
hatchet and hands,
and Cyril and the oth-
ers on the roof were
able to lower the help-
less paralytic into the
house.
The Master had
healed many sick with
various diseases, but
never so helpless a
man as this. Cyril
peered down through
the broken roof in
eager expectation, and
Lois, in the room be-
low, crept nearer, till
she could put one
small brown hand
upon a corner of the
hammock and gaze
at the deathlike face
whose nerveless lips
were without motion
or expression.
One swift glance
upward at the expect-
ant faces of those who
had in this way over-
come the obstacles be-
tween their friend and
his helper. e saw "THE POOR OUTCAST WAS
their faith, and turning
to the palsied man, the man of Nazareth said:
"Son, thy sins be forgiven thee."
Now," thought Lois and Cyril, he is go-
ing to lay his hand on him and heal him."
They were waiting breathlessly, for a moment;

but other thoughts than theirs were half angrily
manifesting themselves in the darkening faces
of the most important men who heard. There
were among those who so filled the room
scribes learned in the law, men of sacred au-
thority, rabbis as wise as Ben Nassur, or wiser;

4:

-7 k1

EVIDENTLY MAKING A DESPERATE EFFORT." (SEE PAGE 514.)

and their very eyes burned with the indignant
protest their tongues were not ready to utter:
"Why doth this man thus speak blasphemies?
Who can forgive sins but God only? "
Then, as if they had actually spoken:

[APRIL,

THE SWORDMAKER'S SON.

Why reason ye these things in your hearts? "
said the Master unto them. "Whether is it
easier to say to the sick of the palsy, Thy sins
be forgiven thee, or to say, Arise, and take up
thy bed, and walk? "
Cyril was looking at the yet motionless face
in the hammock.
"The Master has not touched him," said
Lois to herself. He did not; he only looked
from one to another of the scribes, as if he
were reading their hearts, like written books,
and said:
"But that ye may know that the Son of
man hath power on earth to forgive sins-" he
paused, and looking down, said to the man
sick of the palsy, I say unto thee, arise, take
up thy bed, and go thy way unto thine house."
Up rose the form that had been so nearly
without life, so utterly without motion. The
hands which a moment before could not move
their fingers, reached down and picked up the
hammock. The dense crowd parted before
him as he turned toward the door, and he
walked away with the firm, elastic tread of
health and strength.
Nevertheless, the thronging to see such a
proof of power compelled Jesus to leave the
house and go to the seaside to teach the rapidly
increasing multitude.
Cyril did not go with them at once. And
while he was assisting the workmen who had
come to close the opening made to let down the
palsied man, Lois found an opportunity to say
to her brother:
I heard Isaac Ben Nassur and the scribes
talking among themselves. They were dis-
turbed, and seemed greatly offended because
all, even the lowest people in Capernaum, are
flocking to hear him. What has he to do
with them ? I heard Ben Nassur say that they
are accursed.
What do they mean, Cyril ? Lois went on,
"must he not be King over everybody when
he establishes his kingdom?"
"Yes," said Cyril, doubtfully; "and I sup-
pose some of these people will make good sol-
diers. Father says the Romans are wise, and

they make soldiers of any that can fight. We
Jews are to be the captains."
Before long Cyril had a puzzling matter to
consider the same question that interested all
those who, like Ben Nassur, were ready to be-
lieve that the prophet of Nazareth was really a
rabbi, zealous for the Law.
It was no new thing for a Jewish teacher,
rabbi, or prophet to select from among his
friends or pupils a certain number who made up
his school or traveling household. Already it
was well understood that John and Peter and
their brothers were in this way followers of Je-
sus; but Jesus now formally filled the number
up to twelve, as if, some thought, to represent
the tribes of Israel. No youth like Cyril
could hope to be among these; but it was at
least expected that the chosen would be Jews
of good standing, and men of acknowledged
patriotism.
He has not selected them for captains,"
said Cyril to himself, concerning certain of the
chosen disciples. Most of them are fishermen
or working-men."
When Cyril next saw the Rabbi Ben Nassur,
he told Cyril indignantly that the latest choice
made by the Master was no other than Levi,
the tax-gatherer of Capernaum, the publican,"
who exacted the imposts of the Romans, and
was more hated than any Roman-even more
despised than any Samaritan-for doing so.
His other name was Matthew, and every zealous
Jew regarded him as a traitor to his nation, and
worse than a heathen.
"He called him even as he was actually
sitting at the seat of custom, receiving taxes for
our oppressors! declared the angry rabbi.
"Did Matthew follow him?" asked Cyril,
with boyish directness.
He left everything, and followed Jesus. He
is to be one of the twelve," said the rabbi.
"They are all in his house now--publicans
and sinners and the Man of Nazareth is eat-
ing and drinking with them. I will have done
with them. I will go back to Cana. I can
have no fellowship with the accursed."
So he went his way, full of bitterness.

(To be continued.)

517

"THE MOON MUST LOVE ME VERY MUCH, FOR, WHEN THE NIGHT IS FINE,
OF ALL THE WINDOWS IN THE WORLD, IT COMES AND SHINES THROUGH MINE!"

v /

IN TOP TIME.

BY HENRY REEVES.

HREE tops were lying in the ring;
Three tip-top boys stood by;
Tip-tap They flung their tops on top
To make the others fly,-
When little Tim from Topping street
With top in hand came nigh.

Said he: "I'll play at tops with you;"
" Good! Lay it down," said they.
So in the ring among the tops
His little spinner lay.
Tip-tap! down came a heavy top
And knocked the rest away.

IN TOP TIME.

Y"" ri
I'.. .j'

I, , .

It split the top of little Tim;
Apart the pieces flew;
You 'd think it was his heart that split,
He made so much ado,-
"My top will never spin again -
My top is split in two!"

xI-
t!>
2 *

The tip-top boys some pennies gave
To Tim, and stopped his cry;
And off he ran to Topping street
Another top to buy,-
A bright new top, a splendid top,
A tip-top top to buy.

I\ *

-4
''*1 i -

I I I

SI

AL~7

MA,-\RCH WINDS.

, .\ F \V[i ii- CULLOUGH.

,'

BLOW, blow, March winds, blow!
Blow us April, if you please.
Blow away the cold white snow,
Blow the leaves out on the trees,

Blow the ice from off the brooks,
Set their merry water free,
Blow dead leaves from woodsy nooks,
Show the violets to me.

Do all this; 't will be but play.
Then--please to blow yourself away!

PAPER-DOLL POEMS.

BY POLLY KING.

DEAR little paper dolls, that grow
All in a beautiful, even row!
Their toes turn out in a way that 's grand,
And they look so friendly, hand in hand.
I 've boughten dolls put away on the shelf-
For I love these best, that I make myself.
520

? I
:,
14lj

CL

craj

d

;%t4.=-
c

~ .---

MA,-\RCH WINDS.

, .\ F \V[i ii- CULLOUGH.

,'

BLOW, blow, March winds, blow!
Blow us April, if you please.
Blow away the cold white snow,
Blow the leaves out on the trees,

Blow the ice from off the brooks,
Set their merry water free,
Blow dead leaves from woodsy nooks,
Show the violets to me.

Do all this; 't will be but play.
Then--please to blow yourself away!

PAPER-DOLL POEMS.

BY POLLY KING.

DEAR little paper dolls, that grow
All in a beautiful, even row!
Their toes turn out in a way that 's grand,
And they look so friendly, hand in hand.
I 've boughten dolls put away on the shelf-
For I love these best, that I make myself.
520

? I
:,
14lj

CL

craj

d

;%t4.=-
c

~ .---

FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK.

Then there come nice little paper boys
Who play with the girls, and break their toys.
They all have trousers down to their knees,
And they may shout just as loud as they please.
They never are bothered with dresses and curls,
And never are taken for little girls.

Of course there are cats in Paper Land,
Or who would catch the rats?
They talk the language children talk,
And not the talk of cats.
They say, instead of "purr," and "mew,"
rK ,"Good afternoon," and How do you do?" PK.

0
The paper folks don't always walk,
But ride out every day;
Their horses go just like the wind,
And do not care for hay -
They gallop in a long straight line,
And really do look very fine.

VOL. XXIII.-66.

RHYMES OF THE STATES.
BY GARRETT NEWKIRK.

reat northwest State! remember. well
\,The honored narfte yo'u"own,
And may your children'ever be
v r known. -
For truth and valor known.
Here wide extend' the deep, dark woods, -
With their gigantic trees:
Some other States have forests fine,-
But none so great as these.
The harbors found in Puget Sound,
Ate good as one could wish:
Columbia River, near its mouth,
Is noted for its fish.
Willamette and the other .vales
Are fine as vales can be.
The map is somewhat bottle-shaped- d -
Mouth toward the open sea.
~8r.

LV, A~

-'~-- :;-' "' ..
__ ,

RHYMES OF THE STATES.
BY GARRETT NEWKIRK.

reat northwest State! remember. well
\,The honored narfte yo'u"own,
And may your children'ever be
v r known. -
For truth and valor known.
Here wide extend' the deep, dark woods, -
With their gigantic trees:
Some other States have forests fine,-
But none so great as these.
The harbors found in Puget Sound,
Ate good as one could wish:
Columbia River, near its mouth,
Is noted for its fish.
Willamette and the other .vales
Are fine as vales can be.
The map is somewhat bottle-shaped- d -
Mouth toward the open sea.
~8r.

LV, A~

-'~-- :;-' "' ..
__ ,

RHYMES OF THE STATES.

cZ-1

Ho, Idaho! Ho, Idaho!
I pray you, tell me why
You sit so very straight and prim,
And hold your head so high ?

"Because my mountains are so firm -
They will not bend at all;
And people's heads are always high,
When they are very tall.

"I have a thousand flocks of sheep
Which in my valleys feed:
Of gold and silver I 've enough
To buy all things I need.

"My capital--you ask the name?
'T is Bois6, if you please:
The National Park ?- Oh, yes, indeed,
It rests against my knees."

THE LETTER-BOX.

LONG after the closing of the lists in the "Marion's
Adventures puzzle, there came addressed to the Little
Schoolma'am three travelers from foreign climes the
answers sent by three of her good friends on the other
side of the globe. One came from China, and two from
the island continent Australia. The Little School-
ma'am thanks her correspondents for their kind letters,
and regrets that it is not practicable to extend the limit,
so that their answers to future puzzles may be in time.
Here are the main portions of the three letters :

MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have been a regular reader of
your magazine for several years, and I think if you had
known how many readers you had out here you would
have left more time for us to do the exercise. I did it
as soon as it came here; but I suppose it will be far
too late for any prize. I thought I would do it to show
the interest that I take in the magazine. My sister and
I are looking forward to Christmas, and I suppose the
little American children would think it very funny that
we have hot weather instead of frost and snow.
Believe me your affectionate reader, MAGGIE J-.

PANG CHUANG.
DEAR SCHOOLMA'AM: I herein send a copy of" Ma-
rion's Adventures," I believe, correctly spelled.
It takes a letter a month and a half to reach the United
States from my home, which is one hundred and eighty
miles from Tientsin, and I beg that the Little School-
ma'am will allow us more time than twenty days the next
time she gives us work.
Your reader, Willys R. P--.

CABOONBAH, AUSTRALIA.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: We have taken you for six
years, and, seeing the competition in the October num-
ber, we are glad to join it, though of course we are too
late.
We little Australians would like to have something to
do with it another time, if you could give us a little
longer.
It takes such a long time for us to get our magazine.
I remain your interested reader, Joan S-

ISLESBORO, MAINE.
MY DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I thought I would tell you
about the time my mother and I were nearly killed.
My father, Major Frederick L-, was ordered to the
West to be in charge of some troops stationed there.
Well, about this time my father was taken violently ill,
and my mother and I were sent for. So we got all ready
for our journey and started.
By the route we took we spent two and a half days on
the train and then took a coach for the ride of twenty
miles, and after that traveled with a troop who were go-
ing to the fort where my father was stationed, laden
with provisions and ammunition for the garrison.
We had passed the first three days very comfortably,
when on the fourth, towards evening, as we were travel-
ing with the soldiers, one of the troop, who was riding
behind, suddenly spurred forward and began to talk with

our captain, who, after a while, came forward and spoke
to my mother. I was just a little chap and so tired that
I could scarcely find interest in anything; but my mo-
ther looked very anxious and hugged me tight, and I am
afraid wept over me.
Well, the long and short of it was that we were at-
tacked by Indians, and had to fight for it, too, let me tell
you. And the dear old captain who fought to save us lost
his life along with three of his men.
Yours, TED L- .

BALTIMORE, MD.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I have taken you for three or
four years and find you very interesting.
I live in Baltimore in the winter, but last summer I
spent a few weeks with my aunt on the coast of Maine.
A very funny thing happened in Baltimore last winter.
I was walking down one of the principal streets when I
heard a very squeaky piano-organ.
A very fashionable old gentleman was standing on the
opposite side of the street waiting for the car. Well, the
organ-grinder came up to the gentleman and took off his
hat (which you know is the way they ask for money); the
gentleman looked at him for a moment and then returned
the salutation with the greatest courtesy. Of course it
looked very funny to the people who were watching.
Your true reader, MARRIE L. B- .

PARIS, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am a little girl eleven years
old and I have taken you three years. This is my sec-
ond trip abroad. Last year we stopped at some of the
cathedral towns and this year some others. Peterboro'
has a very curious Saxon church in the crypt; the legend
is this: There was once a saint who wanted to build
a church, so he asked the king for permission, which was
granted; and that very church he built was a few years
ago discovered in the crypt of the church. My uncle took
a candle and led us through. It is very narrow and low,
and we were glad to get out. All the other cathedrals
were very beautiful, but I liked Chester cathedral best
of all.
Your constant reader, EDITH V--.

LIBERTY, NEW YORK.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: I am eleven years old and have
taken ST. NICHOLAS for six years. I enjoy the letters,
as they are so original. I have just returned from Los
Angeles, California. We visited a friend on the way home,
in South Bend, Indiana, who had an aquarium. It was
a glass tank about fifty inches long in the center of which
were stones, shells, and water grasses. Sparkling brook
trout, gold fishes, and Japanese fantails swam about.
In the evening an electric bulb hung by the side of the
tank, making it look like fish fairyland," as the quick
flashes of life moved through the waving grass. The
water runs in and out at the lower end, feeding a tank in
the cellar which is much larger and contains bass, large
trout, and bull-frogs. When it rains out-doors, the frogs
sing so they can be heard upstairs. The cat of this house-
hold is as interesting as the fish, for she will wet her
paw to catch one. She will steal down cellar and sprawl
herself on the platform, made for the frogs to rest on, and
524

THE LETTER-BOX.

put her paw in the water to its full length. The fish swim- un puerto adonde se embarca guano. Hemos estado
ming rapidly by is caught on her claw. She has been aqui casi dos afios. A la distancia de tres leguas de aqui
punished for this, but nothing can break her of going fish- hay una Salina que tiene cincuenta millas de largo y
ing. When she is out
of the house and wants A PICTURE STORY.
to come in, she will rise
on her hind legs and (An incident in a school in ancient Egypt.)
touch the electric but-
ton so that the servant WHILE the children are busy with their books a mouse appears and causes merriment,
will open the door. but the schoolmistress frowns on their levity. When the mouse turns his attention to the
I am in Liberty now, teacher she takes a different view of the situation. It is not the teacher that the mouse
which is popular as a wants, but the apple on her desk, and, after the teacher retreats, the children and the mouse
summer resort. Every make merriment again in their own way. Edwin A. Rockwell.
year the hotels have
a wagon parade; the
most beautiful and the
most grotesque take a
prize. The photogra-
pher of the village as-
tonished every one by
appearing on the back
of a wagon dressed as
a dancing-girl, with a
big yellow wig and red
cheeks. About his neck
hung several large
snakes. We went the
next day to see them in
his office; they were
keptin large box, with
a zinc tank at one end
filled with water. This
strange man loves these
creatures and has al-
ways handled them. /
When asked if the
snakes were stupefied
with a drug, he said:
"No, they are perfect-
ly harmless; my child
three years old will
handle any that I do.
I remove the venom, or
poison bag, from rat-
tiers and other danger- _
ous snakes." In the -
box were two Florida
bullheads, about six
feetlong, one Texas
"whiplash," so called
because he defends
himself with his tail, as I
one would use a whip, \
one black adder, one
prairie racer, a milk
snake, and several grass
snakes; they all took a (
drink and swam about
while we were there. /
Snakes feed upon mice
and frogs, which they
eat alive. The photog-
rapher did not take the
prize,as no one liked his
strange pets, though his i i
exhibition was original.
CARLETON B- .

SEATTLE, WASH.
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: My aunt has sent you tome for
about three years, and I like you very much. As you
published not long ago a very nice account of Mount Ta-
coma, written by a little girl, I thought that perhaps you
would like to know something about Mount Rainier.
Our mountain is very grand, stately, and solemn. I often
wonder what he thinks about, keeping watch for so many
years over all the land, but he has his funny tricks too,
for when the weather is going to be cold and blustery,
he puts his snow cap on. It is made of clouds. He
changes the fashion sometimes in shape and color. Some-
times it is pink, sometimes it is white, sometimes it is
pale blue -the national colors, red, white, and blue. He
wears it a good piece above his head, where it hangs
sometimes the whole day without changing shape very
much. He likes to fool people, too, and make them
think that he is on fire. You know that he is covered
with snow all the year round, but in the summer, on the
little bare places of ground that peep out, the loveliest
wild-flowers grow, which are found nowhere else, and
would you believe it, the sun is so hot on the snow some-
times that it will blister your face if you stay on it long
enough. We love our mountain very much, and when
I grow big enough I am going up there to find out some-
thing more for myself, and when I do I will write and
tell you about it. Our sunsets are very beautiful as the
sun goes down behind the Olympic Mountains.
Your little friend, AMY G-- .

Here are two quaint little letters from France:
DEAR ST. NICHOLAS: As I scarcely ever see a letter
from France, I thought I would write to you. I am a
little girl of Lorraine, and believe there is no country
equal to mine. We are ardent royalists, and sometimes
have terrible fighting with republican children. Once,
on a I4th of July, my brother put out the window a
white flag, with gold fleur-de-lys and a scrap of black
crape on the top. But he was made draw it inside
quickly enough. My eldest sister and I are now in a
convent boarding-school, not very far from home. But
as it is a cloistered monastery we can only see our friends
through a little wooden grating. We have two months'
summer vacation, a week at Easter, and two or three
days at the new year. I have never been out of my na-
tive place, except once in my life, in the chief town of the
next department. It is a. fine city, but my brother and I
love our own old little town best.
My sister and I love your nice magazine immensely;
we are much interested in Helen Keller, and would like
to know her. We are very fond of your stories. I often
copy outbrownies for my little sister Stephanie, she likes
them so much ; the "Dude is her favorite one. We are
seven children. Our eldest brother is married. He has
a baby whom we are all crazy of.

TER-BOX.

I am afraid this letter is very uninteresting and not
good enough for print. I would like to talk about our
pets, as all your readers do; our pigeon, the tortoise,
sparrow, dog, and old horse, tame mouse, but I hear my
sister coming, and I must say good-by in a hurry.
I remain your little friend,
FRANgOISE B. DE L--

ROANNE, FRANCE.
DEAR ST. Nicholas: I am very glad to receive the ST.
NICHOLAS. I am young French girl and I live at Ro-
anne, a pretty town on the Loire.
I have a little sister, she is twelve years old and I am
fourteen.
Of course I love my little sister Maggue a great deal.
I am greatly interested in Reading the book of Fate "
and "The letter-box" in the November number of ST.
NICHOLAS.
Reporting to the little girl's letter who were born in
Tokio, Japan, I see they must travelled a great many
miles away, as their father is a protestant missionary.
Their letter is quite interesting; I find they write in
english very well.
Farewell, good ST. NICHOLAS with a shake-hand from:
Your new reader, HERMANCE VERRItRE.